


All Cats Are Gray in the Dark

by CowboyBiBoh



Series: All Cats [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anal Sex, Bath Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Canon Compliant, Complete, Consent, Cunnilingus, Enthusiastic Consent, Erotica, F/M, Kallurance - Freeform, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Multi, Multiship, Queer Themes, SHEITH - Freeform, Sex, Shaladin - Freeform, Shower Sex, Spoilers, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Top Keith (Voltron), Vaginal Sex, allurance, fuck buddies, hidge, hookup, klance, shallura - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-04-16 18:43:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 65,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14171181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CowboyBiBoh/pseuds/CowboyBiBoh
Summary: What's a little sex between paladins?Only something that could tear their team apart.





	1. Welcome to the Jungle

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! I'm a bit new here - used to write fanfic a decade ago, and came back to it this year for NaNoWriMo. I do hope you enjoy!
> 
> A few things to note before we start:
> 
> -This is a work of erotica, sex and relationships will be the main focus.
> 
> -I consider the characters to be aged up/over 18. Not only because that makes the sex stuff easier, but because the way they handle their relationships is not something I could have done at 18. My personal headcanon is most of them around 21-25, with Allura in her late 20s (maturity-wise), Shiro in his early 30s, and Coran in his 40s (maturity wise). But do what works for you!
> 
> -This takes place after episode 1 of Season 4, and so will be spoilery. Keep that in mind, and maybe wait to read it if you aren’t there yet.
> 
> -All Cats will update once a week, unless major life stuff comes up.
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy! I had a lot of fun working on this, and I hope you enjoy reading it.

* * *

 

_Tick, tick._

Time had no meaning in space, really, but it was the designated sleeping hour, and Keith was awake.

As usual.

He’d never been a great sleeper. There was too much rattling around in his brain to ever really settle in; likewise, his body was too keyed up, wired. Ready. He envied the deep sleep he’d seen the others effortlessly achieve, though once he’d seen Pidge so soundless and still he’d thought she was dead. He’d found her prone on the couch and shaken her awake, and she’d just turned and fallen straight back to sleep.

But that had never been him. He was awake.

Again.

 _Tick, tick_.

There was nothing to pass this time in this dark hour. He’d read every book, well, the ones they had in English, and he’d done all the simulations. Coran had promised to make new ones, but there simply wasn’t the time. The new reports from the Blades had been read and filed, and read again; had been fact-checked, color coded. That’s why he thought he was tired enough to attempt sleep in the first place.

But, no. Here he was, once again, tracing the ceiling panels with his eyes, counting sheep, practicing his deep breathing. Anything to get some shut-eye. He was wearing thin.

 _Tick, tick_.

Maybe there was something in the med bay. Something that could just give him that little nudge.

He jumped up, not bothering with shoes. The castle was always spotless somehow, though he never saw anyone, or anything, cleaning. Maybe more of that Altean magic? Whatever it was, he wondered if it could be convinced to enter Pidge’s room…or perhaps that was simply too insurmountable a challenge. The mess had been…something else.

The recessed floor lights in the halls cast a melancholy shadow, a perfect fit for his mood. There was a peace in the isolation of the castle asleep. Early on, he’d liked being the only one awake at this hour. It was a time to clear his head, to relax, to plan. To be alone. But now, there was too much at stake.

He turned a corner, and paused. There, at the other end of the lounge, stood Allura, looking out the window to the stars beyond. She looked like he felt — bleary-eyed, jumbled, hair falling from her thick braid. But there was something else about her, too; a vulnerability, in the way her shoulders curved in, hands clasped over her elbows, protecting her body.

And something in the way her nightgown, too thin, draped down from her breasts. Something in the way the low light showed him just enough.

His foot scuffed the clean floor, and she whipped around.

“Who’s there?”

He stepped into the doorway, just enough that the room’s low light illuminated him.

“Oh, Keith, it’s just you.”

He leaned against the door, keeping his gaze very purposefully at eye level.

“Can’t sleep?”

“I…,” she started, taking a last look out before turning fully towards him, “I’m afraid not. I had a lot on my mind.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” He took another step in, and though a brief smile lit her face, she shook her head.

“I thank you, but no. Some thoughts are best left alone.” She crossed to him, her long legs making quick work of the room. “Is there something you wanted me for? Or were you just out for a midnight stroll?”

He was close enough that he could smell her, that spiced perfume that he’d overheard her telling Shiro used to be from a blend of Altean wildflowers, synthetic now. It wasn’t floral to his nose, but it was intoxicating. And though he hadn’t had much interest in Allura before, he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he held his hand out now. If he caressed her cheek, touched her lips with his own. Touched her everything with his own.

But, no.

Maybe someday; now, he needed sleep.

“I was on my way to the med bay, to see if there was anything for insomnia.”

“Oh, is that all?” Something in her softened expression made him wonder if maybe he should have reached out. Maybe sex would be the key to deep, relaxed sleep…but, no, there, even in the way he thought about it, he was sure it wouldn’t be right. He doubted Allura would be as casual about sex as he wanted to be, and the last thing he needed was a relationship that was more than camaraderie. Or the complications that came with. What would Altean birth control even…? “There’s some Altean magic I can use, if you’re comfortable with it.”

If he were Lance, maybe he could turn the moment around. _Altean magic? Why don’t I show you some Earth magic instead?_

Instead, he nodded. “I’d appreciate it.”

When he returned to his bed and his head hit his pillow once more, he sank into the sweet abyss of sleep.

 

* * *

 

“Why don’t I show you some Earth magic instead?”

She couldn’t believe she’d fallen for such a line. Let herself fall. It wasn’t that she regretted it, though maybe she should have established clearer boundaries ahead of time, let him know that it was just some stress relief, but he’d been so eager, so full of youthful lust and boyish bravado. Which was why the sex had been so woefully, thoroughly unsatisfying.

And why there was now that earnest boy of a man was snoring away in her bed, and she was staring out the lounge window.

She’d been about to throw her dignity in the trash and sleep on the couch when Keith interrupted her. On a different night she would have invited him in, instead, see if she could wring a moan from those tight lips. She always had liked a challenge.

But it would have to wait, and now, in his absence, she was stuck with the grim duty of returning to her room and throwing out her gung-ho, gung-hung lay. In the cool clarity of night, or what passed for night, it was clear she should have thought it through. She’d just been so stressed, so frustrated, and when the opportunity for release presented itself in a boyish face with a lopsided grin, well, she took it.

And it hadn’t been all bad. He may have been all hands, in those rare instances he could pull them away from her breasts to explore her other regions. But even those were cursory patrols, scoping the scene from a safe distance. Admittedly she hadn’t done much either, but then, he hadn’t needed it. Most days she could feel his erection from across the room. And while she’d worried about what all that was going to feel like inside her, once they got going she found she really, really didn’t mind.

Though the boy would have to be taught some moves. In her culture, it was rude to consider sex finished before all parties were thoroughly satisfied.

She stopped in the hallway, frozen, a thought too terrible to bear crossing her mind.

_Were all humans like that in bed?_

By the time she’d made it back to her room, Lance was nowhere to be found. She sank into bed, rumpled sheets and all, and re-examined the whole experience.

Maybe she’d have to run some tests.

Experiment.

For science.

 

* * *

 

When Lance woke up, he was starving. And confused.

And hard.

Had last night been a dream? Had to have been, right? No way Allura would have let someone like him in, let alone ridden him like a pin-up cowgirl, hair flowing, Altean markings sparkling in the low light.

He stumbled into the bathroom, punching the switch as he fumbled for the light. No, it’d been real — the reddened nail tracks down his chest as proud a battle scar as any.

By god, he’d done it. Every sweet moment, from her blushing cheeks to her teal nipples (which, now that he thought about it, had been a bit jarring, yes) to the moans that had spilled out, unbidden; moans he’d brought about. Him, Lance, conqueror of princesses and earth girls alike.

He sighed, pulling at the bags under his eyes. Well, maybe just one of each. But two points made a line, and he’d be damned if a little thing like numbers brought him down.

 _He’d actually fucked a princess_.

And not just any princess. Allura. Gorgeous, smart, willful. The one who’d shown him, given him everything. The only person he’d ever trust with Blue, not that it was up to him. She believed in her friends as fiercely as she did in Voltron, and in their mission even more than that. The spare moments he hadn’t been concentrating on her hips, her perfect ass, the alien slickness between her legs, he’dglimpsed her room. She had books everywhere, stacked in neat piles, though piles nonetheless. Files littered her desk, flagged with notes and bookmarks. She worked so hard, all the time.

He sighed, relieving himself before lumbering back into bed. Maybe there was some other way he could be helping her, something he could take off her plate.

Or maybe there was something they could take care of together.

A goofy grin spread across his face as he sank back into his pillows.

Maybe being a good Paladin didn’t always mean using your brains.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Hunk, how’s that algorithm coming?”

“I finished that like a million vargas ago. Come help me with this level in Killbot Phantasm I? I swear, this boss is unbeatable.”

“Well, yeah, you probably haven’t learned the technique for it. I knew I shouldn’tve let you start on new game plus,” Pidge said, grabbing for her glasses and rolling out of bed. She stretched tall before folding over, her joints a little crunchy first thing in the morning. A year ago, she hadn’t been able to touch her toes, but now she could fit her whole palm on the floor. The morning yoga with Shiro was paying off, but she wished she could convince him that 6 am yoga would be just as good at 7.

She padded over and plopped down next to Hunk, wresting the controller from his hands. “You gotta do this sorta swoopy motion on the d-pad while pressing circle-square-star. In that order. Do that about three times while avoiding his blows…there,” she said, the on-screen avatar darting past a skeletal paw, “now just use your grappling hook and swing up onto the jaw, from there it’s easy-peasy.”

Hunk just blinked. “There’s a grappling hook?”

Pidge blinked back. “How have you gotten this far in the game? Like, really. Tell me. I need to write the developers.”

“I…um…,” he shrugged, and she pushed her glasses back up onto her nose. The bridge had gotten a little bent out of shape — she’d have to see Coran about it later. Though he’d probably want her to try the Altean visionifiers he’d rustled up the last time she’d gone in, and she’d have to explain again that putting squirming jellies into her eyes just didn’t seem like a great idea, and the glasses weren’t really for her vision at all, but…well, it was a conversation that hadn’t been worth it the first time.

Don’t get her wrong, space was great. She was just always a little surprised at how routinely mundanely frustrating it could be, too.

Like what she wouldn’t give for a Dr. Pepper. No matter how much she and Hunk had refined and reengineered the food dispenser in the mess hall, the closest they’d gotten to pop was something that tasted like a grapefruit coke, which, well, wasn’t as awful as the other things they’d made.

She handed the controller back to Hunk and stood, but a tug on her sleep shirt stopped her.

“Leaving so soon?”

“Hunk…,” she checked the time. “We’ve got muster in a few dobashes.”

“A few dobashes are all we need,” he said, flashing those big brown puppy-dog eyes.

Tempting.

Very tempting.

“True, but I think we’ll have more fun with a few vargas later, don’t you think?” She leaned down to his ear. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

He grinned, shrugging.

“Why not both?”

 

They were on time for muster. Barely.

 

* * *

 

Shiro turned to find Allura coming in last, slipping in the door after the other Paladins had lined up and decidedly not meeting his eyes. She took a spot at the end next to Pidge, and Lance’s crestfallen face from the other side of the lineup told him everything. So that’s how it’d finally fallen out. He wasn’t totally shocked — after all, sex was bound to happen when so many young people were cooped up together, facing high-pressure life-and-death situations day in and day out. He was a little surprised at her choice, though perhaps Lance’s persistence and budding charisma could be charming.

Though from the way they acted now, it seemed like that charm may have opened the magic doors for just one sweet, fleeting night.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It wasn’t his problem, really, what anyone was doing behind the doors of this castle. Just as long as when they suited up, they were ready to fight together, as a team.

He met Allura’s eyes first, then Lance’s. Both straightened, settled. Good. Whatever they had left between them could get discussed after training. He wondered if he should take each of them aside, later, but the last thing he wanted was to seem heavy-handed and prying. This was theirs to work through, unless they made it into his problem.

And he prayed to whatever god would listen that it wouldn’t become his problem.

“Paladins, today we’re going to try some new formations I’ve been working out with Keith and Coran. We’ll be learning how to better protect our allies in a multi-ship crossfire, both in our individual Lions and as Voltron. We’ve had too many of our allies downed or disabled by our negligence, so we’ll be spending the next few quintents running drills with the Olkari and Coran. Any questions?”

“No, Shiro!” A chorus. Good. He looked to Pidge and Hunk, smiling, steady. At least he had nothing to worry about there.

“Head to your Lions and let’s get out there. Remember, we’re all we’ve got out there, so watch each other’s backs. We’re all in this together.”

“Right!” Another chorus, though a bit of a lag from Allura. Maybe he’d find a way to approach her about it, as a friend.

After all, he knew how hard it could be in the cold vacuum of leadership.

To have failed those you led.

And to be responsible for those who still, above all else, chose to follow you into violence, ruin, and the glimmer of freedom.

But first, training.

 

* * *

 

Training had been less than spectacular, but it was a start. Shiro called it after Lance and Pidge collided, misinterpreting each other’s called shots and rattling their brains as their Lions smashed shoulders. The paladins were so good in their own Lions, and in their own team, but it took a great deal of effort to keep a line of sight on their allies, especially in gunfire. They’d have to learn to prioritize, become shields by actually practicing good defense, not just pursuing enthusiastic offense.

After the crew had showered and changed, they gathered on deck at Coran’s request.

“Thanks to Pidge’s Galra tracker…”

“…Algorithm…ugh.”

“…We’ve identified a small window in the Galran scouting patrols. Normally we wouldn’t bother, but we’ve been informed there’s a rare mineral deposit on an asteroid not too far in enemy territory. I propose we run a retrieval mission with a small Olkari mining team.”

“Allura?” Shiro said, turning. She had her chin in hand, considering the floor-to-ceiling display before her. Even though she still had her anxieties as a paladin, as a princess and general, she was steady as ever.

“I think we can afford it. As long as you’re sure we can keep the Galra unaware of our plans.”

“We’ll be as secret as…” Coran started, but at a stern look from Allura, he coughed and straightened. “Understood.”

Allura nodded, the princess now, not the paladin. “Very well. Shiro, mind staying a moment? I’d like to talk over the initial plans with you before I bring in our contacts.”

“I…sure,” he said, watching the paladins slip away into the night-dimmed hall. Well, they couldn’t get into that much trouble, could they?

He sighed, and turned to the plans. Figures and diagrams were so much easier to deal with than hormones.


	2. What's New, Pussycat?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith gets an invitation; Shiro learns to relax; Allura makes the same questionable choices; Pidge sees too much; Lance realizes he has some thinking to do.

* * *

 

_Thump, thump_.

Keith hammered the sandbag, determined to somehow train the ennui out. Allura’s Altean magic had worked, yes. Worked too well. He’d had dreams—when was the last time he’d dreamed?—about his cabin in the desert, his brief success and failure as a fighter pilot. About his mother, a shadowed figure just out of his reach. And…

_Thump_.

Damn. He’d never let himself get distracted by this before. This was Lance stuff, amateur hour, base hormones and pubescent fantasies. He’d outgrown this. Hell, he had a mission, life or death. He couldn’t spend his time thinking about those base needs. That voice, whispering little reassurances; those hands on his skin, sliding just under his belt, pulling him forward. His fingers, running down, down, to what awaited him…

“Keith, you okay?”

Keith nearly jumped out of his skin, and the bag swung back, knocking him onto the ground with an ungracious thump. The voice had come out of his dreams, those strong arms crossed in front of his chest—one hot and warm, the other too, too cold.

“Keith? What’s going on?”

“Shiro…,” he managed to choke out, sitting up, letting his head clear. This is why he’d never wanted any of this, had trained his body and mind. He hated this feeling of awkwardness, this inability to look his mentor in the eye. Trying not to notice the bulk of his shoulders, his straining chest.

_Fuck_.

“C’mon, let’s get you to the lounge. I think you’ve had enough training—you’ve been in here for hours.”

Keith nodded, keeping his gaze on the floor, and let Shiro help him up. He noticed Shiro always used his left arm, his human arm, when touching others. Had he always been a southpaw? Or did he do it so no one would have to touch his other arm, to not call attention to it?

Either way, it would have taken a Galra warship to take Keith’s attention from Shiro’s human arm, snaked under his shoulder, hand on Keith’s waist, as he helped him into the lounge. The firm pressure, so like he’d imagined it in his dream.

_God damn, it was only a dream_.

Shiro laid him back on the low couch. “I’ll go get you some water.”

“Shiro,” Keith started, but was hushed into silence with a fierce look.

“You should know better than to overexert yourself,” Shiro said, shaking his head. “I’ll be back in a moment. Don’t move.”

Keith gave up his protest and sunk back into the wildly uncomfortable built-in, his head throbbing where it’d struck the ground. Shiro was right, he’d worked too hard, but what else was there to do? How would he get those thoughts out of his head?

He blinked up to the ceiling, dark in the castle’s night mode.

It hadn’t only been Shiro.

Allura made an appearance, which didn’t surprise him. He’d seen her in next to nothing the night before, after all, and she’d cut an awfully fine form. They hadn’t always gotten along, but he couldn’t deny that pull, the little gravity between them. That dream had been sensual, soft warmth and spice in the air, a taste of the duality that was to come. He’d been forward and she’d met him, a matched will, a shared playfulness.

He wondered if she could do some of those things in real life.

Maybe he’d try to find out.

He sighed and rolled his head from side to side, stretching his aching neck, wicking the sweat onto the fabric, knowing the cleaning robots’d deal with it later.

Shiro, he understood. He’d been drawn to the older man long before they’d become paladins. He was a hero, an idol to those at the Garrison. And when Keith started training with him, learning from him, shadowing him, becoming his right-hand man, he sometimes found himself wanting more. Enjoying a hand on his shoulder that lingered, perhaps, a little long. Seeing more than a friendly look in Shiro’s dark eyes, talking strategy shoulder-to-shoulder as they poured over maps long into the night. Imagining Shiro pressing him down onto those maps, propped up by his cybernetic arm, his human one sneaking down, past his belt, brushing lightly, then firmly. Imagining the look on Shiro’s face when Keith sank down between his legs, taking him in between his lips.

Allura, too. Last night wasn’t the first time he’d wondered what it would be like to communicate with more than just their words.

But Lance.

That, he hadn’t expected.

Every interaction he’d had with Lance, aside from their time spent in battle, had been aggravating. He’d always tried to avoid that cocky, attention-seeking, showoff type at the Garrison. He didn’t remember Lance, despite their “long-standing rivalry.” Once they did get to know each other, he’d seen so much potential in Lance, potential wasted on joking around and chasing tail. He’d only been able to take Lance’s locker-room evaluations of every lady they knew once, before he’d made some snide comment and left. Lance drove him insane.

Which is what had made the dream so confusing.

They’d argued, sure. Keith remembered that’s how it’d started, a fight that had devolved into shoves, invasions of physical space. Then they’d been grappling on the floor, the fight no longer having meaning, a pure contest of strength. One that built friction, heat, frustration, until they’d locked eyes in a truce, the tone shifting. An experimental hand, and one reciprocated. Lips, nervous, but ready. A long, needed release.

“Keith?”

Keith shot up, surprised once again by Shiro’s near-silent approach. Shiro’s reflexes had pulled him away from Keith in time, but not without spilling the offered water, wetting Keith in places he was already feeling some discomfort.

“I’m so sorry, I thought you heard me…”

“It’s… it’s okay. I’ll just go change.”

“Hey,” Shiro said, allowing Keith the room to get up, “is everything okay? It’s unlike you to go so hard.”

Keith tensed, wondering how he’d known…but, no, it was just a turn of phrase. “I just…haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Have you spoken with Allura? She’s got this Altean magic…”

“Yeah,” Keith choked out, sliding past Shiro, turning to hide his erection and sliding his arm across those chiseled abs instead. _Damn_. “It gave me some side effects.”

“Oh,” Shiro said, a soft understanding. Keith unwittingly turned back to Shiro and met his eyes, knew that Shiro knew, had experienced the same. _Damn, damn_.

“I…I think I’ll try my luck on my own tonight,” Keith managed. “That workout should’ve done the trick.”

“Well, if it doesn’t, maybe I can help,” Shiro said, a soft offer that could be perfectly platonic, if Keith hadn’t just seen the heat in the man’s stare. Keith froze. Was he misreading it? “I wanted to go over the plans for the retrieval mission with you. I think we could use the Blades’, and your, cooperation.”

Keith turned back, wanting to get away, to hide from this deep betrayal from his body, his mind. But Shiro’s next words melted him.

“Or we could work up a sweat together.”

That was an invitation if he’d ever heard one.

It had to be. Right?

_Damn_.

“I…still have energy.”

“Good.” Shiro clapped Keith on the shoulder, leaving his hand. “I think we’ll be up for a while.”

 

* * *

 

Well, if Allura had done it, so could he.

Maybe it wasn’t the best example of leadership to emulate, but when Keith told him about the sleep magic, Shiro knew exactly what those side effects were. He’d had some pretty incredible dreams, but had been content to let them lie. After all, he didn’t want complications.

But complications had arisen. And some small part of his brain had been dwelling, ruminating. Wondering. Curious as to why she’d chosen Lance, though the answer may well have been convenience. Nothing against Lance, but, well. Allura could have her pick of anyone. He thought she might just…well.

The thought of others’ intimacy had percolated in his mind, and by the time they’d adjourned for the evening, he found himself keyed. And when he’d checked in on Keith only to find him sweat-slicked and breathing hard, it had awakened something in him. He’d seen the way Keith looked at him, knew there was more than admiration there. Shiro had never wanted to take advantage.

And even now, he worried; the two of them back in his room, his lips pressed to the younger man’s, his hand supporting Keith’s back.

He pulled away.

“Keith,” Shiro sighed, pushing away enough to meet Keith’s eyes, “are you sure?”

A finger, feather-light, traced down his chest, his stomach.

A pause.

“I am if you are,” Keith said, trying still to mask his deeper feelings with offhanded ease. By now, Shiro knew his tells.

And it set him on fire.

He closed the distance, searing Keith’s lips with his next kiss, grabbing the back of his shirt with his human hand, his other square on Keith’s waist. Keith attempted to return it, but there was only so much he could do against the Shiro’s focused charge. So he grasped Shiro’s vest, sliding the zipper down and fumbling with the stop. Finally it gave with a yank, and Shiro sucked in a breath as Keith slipped his hands under Shiro’s shirt, his palms on his bare skin tantalizingly cool. Not to be bested, Shiro kissed down to Keith’s neck, the salt of sweat on his tongue, his lips, whetting his thirst.

It was only when fingers wrapped around his shaft that he broke from exploring Keith’s skin, a low growl caught in his teeth. When had Keith undone his pants? And when had he gotten so hard?

It took everything he had to brace himself, leaning his forehead into the crook of Keith’s neck as those fingers pulled and pushed, loose, slow, warming him up, pulling the skin back from his head, exposing him to the air. Shiro’s world had narrowed to that contact, a raw human tenderness he hadn’t experienced in so long, too long, stripped as he’d been from home and planet, his agency over his own body lost in the mix. But here, now, he was given a gift, a moment he hadn’t realized would be tender and so, so necessary, after everything he’d gone through.

And then, those fingers squeezed.

Oh, it was like fireworks along the riverbank, skyrocketing embers exploding in booms and flashes, the sensation unforgettable. He couldn’t help but thrust forward as he captured Keith’s lips, pushing him back, matching the man’s friction as he used his human hand to gain some territory of his own.

Short work was made of belt, zipper, boxer-briefs, until Keith throbbed warm in his hand. He pushed, walking them back until Keith was pressed up against the bed, folding back over it. A tug on his metal arm—Keith held his wrist, bracing himself, fighting back moans as Shiro slid his hand down, cupping him, the skin so soft, malleable between his fingers. He’d make sure Keith lost control before the end, let loose some of the passion that worked against him in a fight but would do such wonders for him here.

Shiro wondered what he might do to him if he were pushed, and felt himself twitch under Keith’s fingers.

Nevermind Keith losing control, when he could barely keep his own.

His head went fuzzy, and he lost his grip, letting Keith slip down below.

The touch of moisture on his head nearly pulled him apart.

By the time Keith’s lips had wrapped fully around him, his tongue sliding up the base, finding that little spot under his head, Shiro’s mind had gone blank. All the shouldn’ts, those pesky doubts and worries that clouded his mind were chased away, and he focused on Keith’s hands behind his calves, his thighs, grounding him.

But not for long.

“K-Keith, I…,” he managed, pulling Keith’s hair, trying to get him to slow down, to stop, before it was too late.

Keith just went harder.

And release was on Shiro, immediate, overwhelming. Divesting him of all power, freeing him. An enlightenment, a little death.

It was long moments before he came to his senses again, blinking back to see Keith before him, wiping his mouth with the butt of his palm.

“I hope you don’t think we’re finished,” Keith said, a feline smirk just visible in the low light.

Shiro coughed out a laugh, caught by surprise. Of course Keith would want as good as he’d given, or better.

“Of course not,” Shiro said, and pushed Keith back onto the bed. He leaned down, feathering kisses on Keith’s ears, his neck, his collarbone, as he took him into his human hand once again. He started with light, long strokes, letting the friction build, finding a rhythm that was just too slow to be truly good. Keith struggled, his breath hitching hot on Shiro’s shoulder. Finally he started to thrust, trying to find that right speed, wanting more.

Shiro bit his shoulder, not hard, but a warning. Settle, it said.

Keith rumbled, low. Frustrated.

Shiro slipped his hand low, down, below Keith’s legs, but when he felt Keith stiffen he pulled back.

“Do you not want…,” Shiro said, letting the question hang in the air.

Keith, eyes crushed closed, shook his head. “No, sorry.”

Shiro kissed him, and met Keith’s eyes as they fluttered open. “You don’t ever have to be sorry to me, Keith. To anyone.”

He slid his hand back up, tugging, tightening, until the friction was there, hard and rough and good. The energy was back, the drive. The mood rebuilt.

He started to dip down, but Keith pulled him back up, hands around Shiro’s triceps, fingertips too hard on flesh, metal. Shiro got the message, staying as he was, exploring Keith’s ear with his tongue, biting his chin, tracing his collarbone as he increased the speed and pressure ever more, until, there—the hitch in Keith’s breath told him he’d found the right spot, that if he just kept going…

“Fuuuck,” Keith let out a low moan and came, spilling out onto his own stomach and Shiro’s hand. They stayed a moment, breathing, the dark a comforting cocoon to hide emotions neither one had dealt with in a very, very long time.

Finally Shiro stood, turned, and flopped next to Keith on the bed, sweaty, but more relaxed than he’d felt in ages. More like himself.

Maybe he’d feel like this more often, if he’d only give himself permission.

He turned to face Keith, but the other man had already fallen asleep, spent in more ways than one.

Well, fair enough. Shiro cleaned him up and settled him in the bed, before going to take a shower.

Strategy could wait until morning.

 

* * *

 

So, maybe she didn’t have the greatest judgment.

She’d meant to tell Lance that, well, while it hadn’t been a mistake, see, it was a one-time thing, and awfully improper for fellow paladins to be, well, involved. She’d been all over the place in training, from dragging her feet to get there absolutely last, so they wouldn’t have to talk, to flying wide to avoid him, becoming set dressing to their planned defense. It was obvious she’d have to talk to him, and she’d dreaded it all afternoon, pacing up and down her room and practicing what she was going to say.

So when he’d shown up with a bottle of wine and that disarming smile, Allura decided it was easier to just throw her hands up and give in.

And while sex in any capacity was generally better than none, this was…

…How to put it…

…Boring.

Wrote. Predictable.

The wine had loosened her up, sure, but he’d almost been ready to skip the foreplay. Being a young, virile man was absolutely no excuse for jumping past the good stuff. She’d had to maneuver him, whispering in his ear all the “sexy” things she wanted him to do, like, “Oh Lance, I bet there’s more than a few ways you could put that tongue to use,” cringing all the while. Altean culture covered all the parts of a young person’s education, including sex and sexuality. While lessons were never hands-on, instruction was given on what was generally considered pleasurable, and how to achieve satisfaction in a safe manner for all parties. Outside of lessons, sex was understood as a healthy endeavor, and was never discouraged. As a result, Alteans were considered to be some of the better lovers in the known universe.

So what were humans doing, _teaching_ , that resulted in this?

Again, she thought, as Lance plunged his tongue between her legs, it wasn’t that it was all bad. She writhed, trying to line his tongue up with her clit, to find the right spot.

Some sex _was_ better than none.

Then he sucked just too hard on her clit, and she squeaked, squirming, pushing his head back.

Or was it?

“That’s…enough for now. Thank you, Lance.”

“Anytime, Princess,” he said, goofy grin perfectly in place.

_Damn_.

“Are you ready for… _Lance_?” He said, sliding himself into position, wiggling one eyebrow suggestively.

_Oh quizznak._

“I…yes, sure. That would be lovely.”

Even he looked taken aback. _Lovely?_

“I…I mean, oh yes, baby. Give it to me.”

“As you wish,” he said, winking.

She closed her eyes.

At least this part was reliably hard to screw up.

He slid in, filling her, almost too much so. Who had seen fit to endow him so well? If only he’d been taught to use it further than in, out, repeat.

Well, it was doing the job, she supposed. The wine had helped, too, loosening her limbs, warming her head to toe. Slipping under her guard, relaxing the princess persona and reminding her she was a woman, with needs, desires.

And, oh. There. Tension gone, she opened to him, and he entered, again and again and again, hard within her. Satisfying. She might not come, exactly, but sometimes the journey was the important bit.

Maybe if she could just get him to…

But, no, he was there. She could see it in his face, and she sighed inwardly, bucking her hips and meeting him as best as she could before he pulled out, spilling himself on her. She’d told him that Altean women could self-regulate, that there was no chance of pregnancy, but it looked like he didn’t quite believe her.

Just when it was getting good.

He flopped down and turned to her, his indefatigable smile ear-to-ear. His joy was infectious. Before they’d become intimate, she’d known Lance to be ruled by youth and passion, his heart ever on his sleeve. It made him a great empathizer, though he carried other’s burdens too easily. That emotionality united them both, drew the Blue Lion to them. Bound them as paladins who’d made the same connection. Maybe that’s what made her so loathe to give him any, well, constructive criticism. She didn’t want him to take it too hard, wanted to keep it light and easy.

“Was it as good for you as it was for me?” He asked, his eyes sparkling. He leaned over and traced her chin, twirled a lock of her hair through his fingers. Her spirits sunk. Something had to be done, or he’d be there every night, expecting mediocre sex in which only he walked away satisfied. And frankly, they both deserved better.

Maybe he could be trained, covertly. Let him think he was learning it all on his own.

_A secret mission._

“Well,” and his face started to sink, his winning smile fading, “…oh, no, it was lovely, it’s just…,” and she sat up, tracing his chest. “There are just some things I’d like to try next time. Is that all right with you?”

His grin came back in force.

“Next time, eh?”

_Oh, no._

She’d committed.

“Why not right now?” He said, leaning over to trace the outline of her breast, lips primed for a kiss. She put a finger in front of her own, and gently pushed him back.

“Well, it’s late, you see, and we’ve got more training in the morning. I think neither one of us performed very well today,” _in more ways than one_ , “so it’s better we get our rest and go over the new strategies again.”

He frowned, but kissed her, sweet. Chaste. In so many ways he still had the soul of a boy, curious, unspoiled. Allura hated to admit it, but it may have been part of what led her to take him in last night, and tonight as well. The total lack of pretense, a soul on display.

It made her feel just a little guilty, but it was in service of the greater good.

And what leader hadn’t had to make that choice before?

He dressed, and she threw on a robe, walking him the few steps to her door.

“Goodnight, Lance.”

“‘Night, Princess.”

“Please…,” she said, not knowing what prompted the words as they fell from her lips, “I’m just Allura.”

“You’re not ‘just’ anything,” he said, kissing her goodnight and trotting down the empty corridor.

She watched him go, mentally kicking herself all the while.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Katie,” Hunk said, nudging her as they waited for Shiro to show up for briefing. It wasn’t like Shiro to be late, though he probably had a good reason. He was more aware of the bigger picture than the rest of them, spending late nights with Coran going over charts, plans, communications; the latest intel about the Galra threat. Even if he overslept, he probably needed it, Pidge thought. Training could wait.

“Hm?”

“Does something seem…off…about Lance?”

“Lance?” She found the newly-minted Red Lion pilot lounging on the wall in a pose not unlike Keith, and she followed his sight to…of course. Allura was looking over Coran’s shoulder at a monitor, bent at the waist, unwittingly giving whoever happened to be behind her a fantastic view.

Pidge pulled at her own suit. _These things really didn’t leave much to the imagination, did they?_

“I wonder what’s up with him,” Hunk said, missing the point entirely. Hunk’s good-natured naïveté was why she liked him so much in the first place. Lance, on the other hand… 

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” she scoffed. She twisted a little, trying to get a feel for her own silhouette. Had Lance ever looked at _her_ like that?

Had Hunk?

A buzz heralded the opening of the main doors, and Shiro walked in, apologetic.

“Sorry, I got caught up in some last minute thoughts. Coran?” He tossed the advisor a data file, and turned to the paladins, who had fallen in.

“Does something seem off about Shiro?” Hunk whispered, and Pidge nudged him.

“Shh,” she hissed. He simply shrugged, and she returned to focus on Shiro. Hunk was right, as usual. He had a preternatural skill for divining the moods of others, like a barometer for emotion. Pidge couldn’t put her finger on it, but something was different. Not something obvious, like new clothes or a haircut…

Coran gave him a thumbs up, and he smiled.

Holy shit, Shiro was smiling. Grinning, even. He was relaxed, happy. Easy.

It was almost imperceptible, a small shift. But it was there. The way he walked, gestured.

It looked good on him.

And he deserved it. He’d done so much for her, for her family. Hell, he’d put himself in the way of certain death to protect her brother, and she’d blamed him for it. He’d sacrificed so much for all of them, and asked for nothing in return but their hardest work, their trust. Even that seemed so inadequate most days.

Maybe that Altean trick he’d told her about was worth trying, if these were the results.

Aaaand, crap, she’d missed everything he said.

“So, three times on Delta, then we can give Gamma a shot.”

“Neat,” Hunk said, as they fell out.

“I…um, well. Ugh,” she said, trotting after Shiro. She’d have to ask him to repeat.

How embarrassing.

 

* * *

 

Lance grasped the zipline down to Red’s hangar.

_Next time?_

He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard words that sounded so sweet and so ominous at the same time.

It was clear something hadn’t been right for her. She’d seemed like she was enjoying herself, but she’d mostly just laid there, letting him run wild. He’d expected more, what? Action? Intimacy? The way she’d wrapped her hands, arms around him the first time, pulling him in. Enveloping him in her sweet scent, her soft skin. He’d thought he’d gone to heaven.

And now she had plans for next time, which, don’t get him wrong, was great. Excellent. He was over the moon. For a poor, bumbling earth boy, getting the alien princess was the dream. The highest high.

So why did it feel so, well, underwhelming?

He wished there was someone he could talk to, but…well. There wasn’t any rule saying paladins couldn’t sleep with each other, but he didn’t think Shiro would be super on board—he’d probably regard it as some breach of professionalism. Even though Lance been attracted to Allura since she’d fallen into his arms, and that was long before she was a paladin, so he was in the clear. Right?

Keith was out, because there was no way he was opening up to Keith about anything he didn’t have to, especially not about sex. Double-especially since he wasn’t an active paladin anymore. What was up with that, anyway? Was being a paladin something you could so easily just up and walk away from?

He leapt down from the zipline and into the small vehicle that formed the bulk of Red’s cockpit, crossing his arms. Pidge was out too, but Hunk? Would Hunk get it?

Coran?

How desperate was he?

At home, he would have asked his brothers, hell, even gotten the lady perspective from his sisters. He’d been so close to his family, and though he’d let them know he was all right, and on a mission, he’d had no communication with them since. He missed them terribly, the meals that almost always devolved into riots, the fights and laughter alike.

But they were on a small blue-and-green planet, millions and trillions of any sort of measurement away.

And he was here.

The little craft zoomed into the Red Lion, and the lights illuminated, ready for action. Lance gripped the controls, marveling that they were still in such good shape, showing no signs of use. No two ways about it, these Lions were magic. Alive.

“How about you, Red? Got any advice?”

Silence.

“Well, that figures.”

It occurred to Lance only after launch that the Red Lion had originally been piloted by King Alfor, Allura’s father.

Boy, was this day going for him, or what.

 

* * *

 

Training had gone much better. No collisions. A few stray shots had “hit” the convoy, but nothing that would take a ship out.

“A few more runs like those and we’ll be right as an eelane’s bneia,” Coran declared, clicking off the recorded footage and turning back to the group.

“Coran’s right. Good work out there today, paladins. Four days—”

“Quintants?” Hunk offered, and Shiro shrugged, sheepish. He wasn’t as good at Altean as the others, preferring to stick to the Earth terms. The others definitely did not make fun of him for it behind his back.

They usually did it to his face. He could see Pidge and Lance trading good-natured ‘oh, Dad,’ shrugs, and sighed.

“Ah, yes. Four quintants from now, we’ll start the mission. Keith? Does that give you enough time to coordinate with the Blades?”

“Plenty.”

“Good. We’ll need all the help we can get.” Shiro rolled one of his shoulders, stretching his neck. “Go get some rest, everyone. We’ve got a tough week ahead of us.”

 

No one knew how true those words would ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! It's heating up. Thanks for the kudos and bookmarks/subscriptions!


	3. Easy, Tiger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance concocts a plan that involves a little poetry and a lot of reading; Allura’s just there for the sex, but is determined to get the best she can; Pidge starts to piece the hints together before Hunk interrupts her thought process; Shiro and Keith find stress relief in the baths.

* * *

 

Lance had concocted a plan.

He’d done a lot of thinking, especially for him. He’d connected with the Red Lion (earlier embarrassment aside) and let the meditation-like state take him over, analyzing and brainstorming as he weaved in-and-out through enemy fire. He’d even given Pidge a really solid assist, which had felt great.

He felt great.

It was a pity that there weren’t, like, space roses. Or non-holographic flowers of any kind. Everything he’d ever seen about setting the mood had started with flowers, and though the wine had worked the night before, showing up twice with booze made it feel cheap somehow. At best, it lacked originality.

And that simply wouldn’t do.

After showering very, very well, and wishing he had any nice clothes aside from his uniform, he’d trotted up to the control deck and, after confirming Allura was elsewhere, asked Coran for recommendations of Altean poetry.

Coran was ecstatic.

He’d taken Lance to the library (they had a library?) and showed him to the stacks, quickly picking four books and scouring for a fifth. Sensing the man’s enthusiasm could turn into a multi-hour dissertation on Altean lyricism, and not wanting to cause a commotion, he’d made his excuses and run off to a different corner to study.

He settled into a nook between rows and picked up the first, a small red book with embossed glyphs, well-worn. A compilation of the classics, Coran had called it. Well, she’d probably heard these before, but it was the thought that counted, right?

He slid a finger between the cover and first pages, slipping it open, and started to read.

Well, tried to read.

Stared at the letters.

He’d forgotten that his Altean was passable at best.

“Hm? Never thought I’d see you here,” a voice said from down the row, approaching. Lance instinctively shut the book, and blinked to see the speaker.

Pidge.

“Well, I didn’t know it existed until, well, half a varga ago. Do you come here often?”

“Are you trying to pick me up?”

“Ah, nope, genuine question.”

She laughed.

“Yeah, often enough, when the database refers me here. You’d be surprised how much the Alteans kept in print.” She leaned against the nearest bookcase. “What’re you reading?”

“Nothing, apparently,” he said, shaking the book. “Turns out my Altean needs work.”

“Oh. Want a translator?”

“You have one?”

Pidge shrugged and pushed up her glasses, a little deflection she used to hide her pride.

“I made a couple extra, just in case.” She held out what looked like a small fluorescent bulb. “Just scan it over the text, and it’ll translate it.”

“Hmm,” he said, taking it and turning it this way and that. How did Pidge get the design down so well? Was there a fabrication room he didn’t know about? How many hidden rooms were there?

He picked it up and held it over the poem he had open. A love poem, about distant moons and glistening peaks, eruptions and spring. There was more than one untranslatable word, but Lance could guess the meaning.

But as great as the translator was, it didn’t solve his problem.

“Does this have a setting for, well, reading it phonetically?”

“Hm? No, but…give it here.” Pidge snatched it back, not waiting for a response, and plopped down cross-legged as she plugged it into a portable terminal. She worked away in silence, and after a while Lance felt awkward and scooted closer to her, looking over her shoulder as her deft hands made minute adjustments with the smallest multi-tool he’d ever seen.

Moments later, she handed it back.

“There—the red light’s the setting you want. The blue is for translation,” she said, but when he reached for it she slipped it out of reach, waving it in the air. “First you gotta tell me why you want to read aloud in Altean.”

_Dammit._ He’d underestimated her.

“I, um, want to practice my reading comprehension.”

Oh yeah, Lance. That definitely sounds natural. _Good job, buddy_.

“So you want to get good enough to seduce a princess,” she said, nudging him in the shoulder as he froze in place. “That’s more dedication than I would’ve expected. Good for you.”

Wait, did she know? Or was she just teasing him?

“I…well, you found me out. Your support means a lot.”

And, he realized, it did. Maybe he’d written Pidge off too quickly before. She was perceptive, and not easily bothered about the goings-on of others. Their friendship had always felt so comfortable, easy.

She handed him the device again, her long, narrow fingers so feminine. How had he ever mistaken her for a guy? Long lashes too, swiping her lenses as she blinked. Defined cheekbones. Her little button nose. Of course, none of those features were decidedly feminine. Something about the duality, her fine features against her shaggy haircut and baggy clothes, was intriguing. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed before, but Pidge had made sure her camouflage would fool most casual onlookers.

And Allura left little room for noticing others.

“What’s the magic word?” Pidge said, flipping it out of his palm as he tried to grab for it again.

“I…thanks, Pidge.”

“You’re welcome.” She hopped up and brushed herself off before grabbing her pack. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

The part of his personality that craved attention and social interaction begged to go after her, to see what she was up to, to spend time with her and Hunk in the lounge, playing cards or any one of the games they’d invented to pass the time. But he had a mission, and he needed to focus.

He brought his haul back to his room, settling into his bed to read and learn, when a knock on his door startled him.

She had come to him.

 

* * *

 

Allura had concocted a plan.

It’d taken her the better part of the day to refine, but as she rapped on his door, she felt pretty good about the whole thing. If everything went according to plan, she’d get the release she craved, and he’d become a better lover, none the wiser.

Not for the first time, she wondered why she was so invested.

She could have walked away after the first time, said what she’d meant to. She could have let him down, gently.

So why hadn’t she?

Because the sex was a welcome relief. Some days it seemed like there was no end to the people who needed her attention or opinion, who were seeking refuge, who wanted to join the cause. A thousand decisions, little judgments, any one of which could end up saving them all or ruining everything. Only time would tell what kind of a leader she was, which wasn’t a comforting thought on her good days, and even less so when she’d made mistakes.

And she had made mistakes. Ones that cost lives.

So yes, the pursuit of better sex was a distraction, and one that would directly benefit her. Release at her own hands was fine, but she longed to find a lover who could expertly play her body, plucking the strings that would release the sweetest notes.

Maybe that person would never be Lance. Maybe she’d have better luck with Keith, or Shiro.

She tingled a little at the thought, allowing herself just a moment to picture their hands on her. In her.

But they hadn’t approached her with a little swagger and an earnest, if cheesy, pick-up line.

And Allura wasn’t a quitter.

When Lance opened the door, she blinked her surprise, despite trying to keep her cool, collected demeanor. She needed all the confidence she needed for her machinations, and though she’d never tell him, she’d channeled Lance to get herself in the right mindset.

But to see him, showered, hair impeccably tousled, book in hand (was that _Altean Verse, Volume I_?), smelling muskily-sweet as only men really did, and caught just as off-guard as she…well.

He looked _good_.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought him charming before, but Lance usually led with his personality, captivating with jokes and asides, able to flatter and tease in good fun, easing the tension and genuinely flattering everyone in turn.

But now, the slow grin creeping over his face, heat radiating from their close proximity…

Well.

“May I come in?”

“I, oh, yeah,” he stumbled, swinging the door open. He hadn’t expected her, and though his bed lay strewn with books and a small computer, the rest of the room was cleaner than Allura would have expected.

She’d seen Pidge’s room, after all.

Allura clicked the door shut behind her. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No! Of course not. Seeing you is the highlight of my day,” he said, then froze. She wasn’t used to seeing him unsure, this man who led with his heart and let the rest follow.

And, oh. He’d meant what he said.

She shouldn’t be here.

“Lance…”

“Here, sit. I’ve been working on something I wanna share with you, but…”

“Lance…”

“Oh, sorry. Would you like a drink?”

“Lance.”

He stopped busying himself, and turned to her.

How to start?

“I, um. Please, sit.”

Inviting him to sit in his own room, nice. They settled side-by-side on the bed, and she took one of his hands.

“What’s up, Allura?”

“I…,” she sighed. “I probably should have started with this, but…Lance…”

“You aren’t interested,” he sighed, slipping his hand away. She shook her head, the emphatic motion pulling her hair loose.

“No! Quite the opposite, actually. It’s just that…well, I’m not looking for love or romance. More of a…casual arrangement.” There, she’d said it. Her heart knotted. She hoped this wouldn’t be the end of it all, but the only thing worse than hurting Lance would be to lead him on, and that, she couldn’t abide.

He looked to her with guarded eyes. “A hookup?”

“A what?”

He laughed. “It’s like this…friends-with-benefits, sex with no strings attached.”

“I, yes. A hookup.”

He turned, slipping his hand down her arm until it found hers. They sat there a moment, fingers slipping between, playing their feelings on the digits.

And there it was, like the flip of a switch—that charisma. He put his hand to his forehead, every inch the sophisticate goofball.

“So, let me get this straight,” he started, “the most beautiful princess in the universe wants to have casual sex…with me.”

“W-well, ‘universe’ is a bit much,” she started, but he shook his head.

“It’s exactly enough,” he said, and leaned in, capturing her lips with his.

His lines from anyone else would be cloying, sleazy. But his earnestness erased all that, and those words winnowed their way in. His honest belief in hyperbole made him endearing.

And then his hands on her waist, slipping up her sides to push off her mantle from her shoulders, quickly made ‘endearing’ a thing of the past. She leaned in, tracing her tongue on his lips, deepening their kiss as he deepened their contact. With their conversation on their minds and sex squarely on the table, the timidity had gone.

He cupped her neck, fingers slipping into her hair as he kissed her, hot, fast, vigorous. Intense. Was that all it had taken? A mutual admission of a desire for freedom, to approach their encounters as what they were?

This straightforward, passionate side of him was definitely doing things for her.

He slipped his hand down, under the hem of her dress, across the curve of her breast, just grazing the nipple as he reached around to cup it. She sucked in a sigh and he kissed her again, capturing the sound, using his leverage to push her back into his pillows, the mattress.

Taking control.

Well, let him try.

She slid her hands along his hips, tracing the rough seams of his rough pants to the hem of his shirt, sneaking them under, seeking the warmth of his stomach. She swept her flat palms up his torso, reveling in the feel of his flat stomach, tight muscles narrowing into a deep v down his hips. She hadn’t been aware of how truly fit he was, before. Of course, she’d seen him shirtless countless times — the paladins kept close proximity. but to witness him at the end of her bed, about to do such things to her…

Well, it hadn’t ended up an entirely fairy-tale ending, but she was going to turn that around.

He’d slipped her dress down around her shoulders, hindering her movement, though she doubted that was his intention. He seemed more focused on her nipples, pinching one while circling the other with his tongue. She could smell his shampoo, the Altean scent of digne flower and mnako so familiar, yet so out of place on this earth person. She inhaled again, deep, settling herself within, and—

“Ah!” She yelped, and he started, releasing the vice-like pinch he’d had.

“Sorry. Too hard?” He said, brow furrowed.

“I, no, ah, yes. I’m just sensitive,” she said, and he placed one hand back, featherlight, sliding his thumb over the nipple he’d wronged.

And then he kissed it, soft, slipping his tongue over and sending heat straight through her.

“All better,” he whispered, then set about flicking and tracing it with his tongue, as his other hand slid down, down.

Over her dress, gathering the material as he went.

To her hip, gripping, unable to get enough.

Inside her thigh, down instead of up, the teasing growing unbearable as he caressed her calf, her knee.

And made his excruciating way back.

He slid the material past her hips, then slid his hands down, away. She anticipated for their return, the heat building between her legs kindling waiting to be stoked, but when she heard rustling she looked up to find him disrobing.

_Well, fine_ , she supposed, though it seemed an odd moment for it. But when she felt him settling between her legs, sliding his organ through the first moisture that had built…

Well, that was betrayal of the first degree.

“W-wait a moment, Lance,” she said, struggling to sit in her crumpled dress.

“Oh, sorry!” He said, helping her slide it up and off her, tossing it to the side. Before she could protest again, he swept in and kissed her, letting her hair out to stream down her back. He used the momentum to try to lay her back down, but she put both hands to his chest.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, worry clouding his eyes.

_What’s wrong? That you’ve clearly never been taught how to please a partner, which may or may not be your fault but sure is affecting my quality of this “hook-up” situation_ , she huffed internally. She ought to just tie him up as she’d been planning, let him think it was a game as she got her pleasure on his own. To tie his hands above him, giving her full range of his incredible body. She’d start by climbing up and giving his tongue a real workout before taking her time torturing and teasing with her fingers and lips and breasts until, when they both breathed heavy and he begged, pleaded for release—she’d mount him, ride him, only let him loose near the end so he could thrust with the abandon he wanted until he pushed them both over the edge…

But that was selfish. She could fuck a man for a day, or teach him to fuck and reap the benefits for a long time to come.

“I’d like you to spend more time on me,” she said.

“On you?” He blinked, and she pushed herself up, anticipating every ounce of pleasure she would wring from this sweet man’s lips.

“Mm-hm,” she said, stroking her fingers down his jaw to cup his chin, tugging it down until he understood where she was leading him.

“Oh,” he said, sheepish. He leaned down to kiss her belly, just to the side, in the curve of her muscle, tracing the natural line of her body.

And then, once, on the edge of her mound, lips tickling the curve underneath.

He got down on his knees and she leaned back on her forearms, not wanting to miss the sight of an attractive man between her legs. He kissed her inner thighs, each side, then dove in, sliding his tongue in her folds with bayard-wielding force.

“Ah, oh, Lance, w-wait,” she said, pushing his forehead back. He was going to have to learn some restraint.

He was going to have to learn, period.

“Here,” she said, sliding her hand down and spreading herself with two fingers, enjoying the jaw-dropping awe on his face.

“Start slow, and lic—oh!” She sighed, as he dove in mid-instruction. She leaned back to give him better access, and he slid his hands around her hips, gripping her for leverage as he lavished her with long laps.

“Y-yes, like that,” she said, twitching as he mumbled something against her, tickling her nerves. He started to pick up the pace and intensify the pressure, but it was too much, too fast.

“Lance, just a—” she pleaded, and the sight of his eyes flicking up to meet hers, questioning, sent shivers through her. That was something she could see herself getting very, _very_ used to.

She bit her lip, struggling with how to explain what she wanted. Sex, like any sort of communication, is an art, a give-and-take, a story told to, or with, a partner. The best sex was initiated with intention, a narrative driven by one person that invited the other to participate, to build tension, to find the peaks of drama and slow moments of rest, building to a climax, and the all-important denouement, a soft coming-down that too many people thought acceptable to skip.

But how to communicate all that, when he knelt, waiting, lips glistening with her essence?

“It’s like…forming Voltron,” she said, and his blank stare drove home how ridiculous she sounded. “Bear with me. You know how you have to clear your mind and connect with your lion?”

“Yes?”

“It’s like that, like a dialogue,” she said, thinking back on how she’d felt when she’d first connected with the Blue Lion, that surge of energy she’d felt from it that made her feel like she could take on the world, that filled her heart with love and courage and a fierce pride in those she kept closest. But the Blue Lion had also asked questions of her, performed to her ability, challenged her to look inside herself.

“Think of sex like a conversation,” she said, finally. “I want to feel your intention.”

The way he cocked his head confirmed she totally blew it. She started to get up. “If you’d like me to show you first…”

“No,” he said, pushing her back down as he rest his lips on her most sensitive place. “I think I’ve got it.”

And oh, he did.

When he started again, it was with a probing, teasing tongue, that dipped just enough in to find her clit before darting out again. At her satisfied sigh he did it again, and again, whetting her nerves, teasing her.

And then he parted her and lapped once, twice; long and slow, wetting her, exploring. This time, his reconnaissance was purposeful, showing him the lay of the land for his campaign.

His conquest.

He set to work building a good amount of heat before easing up again, now featherlight, teasing her even as he backed off. And then he did it again. And again.

Allura grasped anything she could: Her breasts, pinching her nipple as he sped up, matching the intensity; the sheets, when she couldn’t concentrate on anything else. His hair as he slowed, sliding her fingers through the short strands, pulling when she found a hold. He wasn’t perfect, but he’d improved.

And then, a finger, slipping inside. She involuntarily arched against him, bucking into his nose with accidental force, but it had just felt so _good_. When had he moved his hand?

“O-oh, Lance, _yes_ ,” she sighed, and he redoubled his efforts, the speed increasing incrementally, his finger and tongue working in tandem, until, yes, yes, she was there, shuddering her release into him.

When she’d managed to blink her eyes open he was standing, wiping his mouth against his forearm. She swept loose strands of hair out of her eyes.

“I take it you liked that?”

“Very much, yes.”

“Good,” he said, running his hands up and down her legs. “Are you ready for the main event?”

She nodded, glossing over that the main event for her may have just ended. But the talk about male orgasm perhaps not being the final goal of a sexual encounter would have to wait.

Because he was slipping inside, filling her.

And, primed and relaxed as she was, it felt _good_.

Here, too, he started to apply lessons he’d learned; starting slow, long strokes punctuated by thrusts meant to emphasize, not hurt. He was trying to tell a story he didn’t quite know yet, improvising the timing, fudging the words. But they were starting to get to know each other in this context, out of their Lions and suits, at their most vulnerable, and that was enough to have changed the dynamic.

She didn’t come again, but by the time he did, she’d been sated. This time he stayed in as he finished, buried to the hilt, stifling his groans as he spent his seed. He pulled out gently and she made room for him on the bed as he flopped next to her.

They spent a long moment studying each other, light breaths the only sound against the low hum of the ship. Sweat beaded his shoulders, dampened his hair. He’d worked hard, for her.

She reached out a hand and he leaned his cheek into it, kissing her palm, her wrist.

“Thank you,” he said at last, bringing his hand up to cup hers.

“No, thank _you_ , Lance,” she said, but he kissed her palm again, meeting her eyes.

And oh, that look. The warmth in his eyes that wasn’t all post-coital glow.

“W-well, it’s getting late. I should be going,” she said, pulling away. “Practice in the morning and all.”

“You could stay.”

She turned, and the look hadn’t changed. He didn’t move to hold her hand, weigh her down. He just offered her a choice.

But if she stayed…

No, too much was at stake. The real world awaited them outside this cabin. Galra threats, refugees. Their teammates.

Maybe after…but even that was a dangerous thought.

“I should go,” she said.

And he let her.

 

* * *

 

Pidge loved a lot of things about the Castle. The fabrication labs, the state of the art (or maybe ten-thousand-year-old-but-still-way-ahead-of-Earth) computers, and the unrestricted access to databases of hundreds of cultures and thousands of years worth of knowledge.

It had allowed her to do so many things for the Galran war effort.

It had also allowed her to synthesize her own special kind of birth control, with none of the side effects of the backwards Earth stuff. It also gave her a little bit of a mood-elevation kick and nutritional supplements, but those was her little secret. It all was, really.

And with all that tech and equipment and no supervision, it hadn’t taken more than a minute for she and Hunk to soundproof their rooms.

And did Allura know about the castle’s secret passageways?

But if she had to choose, Pidge’s favorite part of the castle had to be the colossal thermal baths, located close to the thrusters as to be easily, continually, heated by the engines. She’d done a thorough check and double-check to make sure the released chemicals would be safe for human bodies, but almost as soon as the second test ran clear she was stripping off her clothes. The perfectly warmed mineral water was the best way to wind down after a long day, and to prime her for a long, sometimes equally energetic night. Though she’d told the others about it, eventually, when their complaints of muscle ache became too much to bear (well, mostly Lance, if she were being honest, though Hunk had whined in his own way), Shiro and Keith were the only other ones who ever came down, and they had the good sense to knock first.

She had come in after training, luxuriating in a long shower beforedipping into the pool. Once in, she let the water buoy her, floating on it before sinking down again, warming to the core.

She was so comfortable, head just above the water, she almost didn’t hear the door click.

Pidge popped up and whirled, startling Allura, who dropped her towel.

“O-oh, Pidge, it’s just you.”

_Just me?_ She wondered, but Allura picked up her towel and walked in. “Do you mind if I join? I’ve had one hell of a day, and could use a soak.”

“Of course,” Pidge said, scooting over as Allura went to rinse herself. She didn’t remember Allura having had a particularly tough time in training, as had often been the case early on, but Allura had plenty of responsibilities outside of being a paladin. Pidge wondered how she hadn’t gone insane.

Though, as Allura wandered over and slipped into the pool, sighing as she immediately slid under the hot water, Pidge though maybe she had.

Allura resurfaced, her hair spreading along the surface like a scene from a horror movie, blond hair knotting and swirling in the slow-moving water. Pidge knew exactly how long that was going to take to untangle, and winced internally.

“Do you want to…talk?” She finally offered, and Allura sighed.

“I wouldn’t want to presume…”

“It’s no trouble, really. You’re under a lot of pressure—the least I can do is lend an ear,” Pidge said, and at that, Allura visibly relaxed.

“It’s, well…,” she paused, loosely braiding her hair to the side. “Have you ever wanted something selfish, that you can’t help but desire even though you know it’ll probably end up with someone you care about getting hurt?”

Pidge stared off into the distance.

“Of course. Not a day goes by that I don’t want to look for my family, but it would mean leaving the paladins, and they come first.”

“Oh…yes, right. I’m so sorry, Pidge. Here I am complaining, when…well.” She turned, meeting Pidge’s gaze, back into leader mode. “Thank you. You’re an invaluable member of our team. After this next mission, I’ll make sure you get leave to search for your family. We can manage for a time with four lions.”

“Allura,” Pidge said, dumbfounded.

Then thought about it.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it—but you’re avoiding the issue. What’s going on?”

Allura looked away, caught.

“It’s, well. Lance.”

Pidge grinned.

“What’d he do this time?”

“I, well,” Allura stammered, a blush creeping across her cheeks that was not entirely due to the heat of the water.

“Did he tell you how beautiful he thinks you are? Wait, no, that’s pretty normal. Did he proposition you?”

“Well, yes, but,” she started, “that’s not the part that’s the issue.”

Pidge blinked.

“Allura, you slept with Lance?!”

“Shh! Keep it down,” Allura said, pulling Pidge under the water. Water went up her nose and she coughed, sputtering, as the princess realized her mistake and brought her back to the surface. “Oh, Pidge, I’m so sorry. But do keep it down, the castle walls aren’t as thick as one might like.”

“Oh, I know,” she said, thinking back on the incident that had finally brought her and Hunk together in the first place. “But seriously, you did? I’m sure he was thrilled.”

“Yes…,” Allura sighed. “Maybe too thrilled.”

“Well, it is Lance. What did you expect?”

Allura curled her braid around her hand, slipping it between her fingers.

“I don’t know. I’m not sure I had expectations…,” she trailed off, but Pidge wasn’t about to be thrown off that easily.

“Well, it sounds like you did, even if you didn’t know what they were,” Pidge said. “So, he’s into you. That’s not new.”

“Pidge, you have to understand—to Alteans, sex is just another thing you can do with someone else.” Pidge must’ve let her skepticism show, the way Allura backpedaled. “I-I mean, of course, many Alteans prefer to sleep with those they love, but I’ve started to get the feeling that on Earth, it’s a bit more serious.”

“Hashtag not all Earth people,” she said, thinking back on the stories her brother told her about the Garrison. Matt certainly hadn’t wasted any time going through most of his cohort, while somehow remaining the goofball ace student that everyone liked. She figured most people had been drawn to his down-to-earth nature, his earnestness. She didn’t want to think about…other reasons he might be so popular.

“Hashtag?”

“Um, Earth joke, sorry,” Pidge said, and shrugged. “I don’t think it’s all Earth people either. Maybe it’s just Lance?”

The room rocked off-kilter for a moment before it evened out; Coran must’ve adjusted their course. The agitated water lapped against them, the little slaps loud in an otherwise silent room.

“He seems hot-headed, but his emotions actually run pretty deep,” Pidge said, slipping out of the water to sit on the edge to cool down. “Like yours. I can see why you both connect with the Blue Lion.”

When Allura still said nothing, Pidge nudged her shoulder with her leg. “Did he say something to you?”

“Well, no.” She laid her head over the edge, staring at the ceiling. “Maybe I am overthinking things. I did tell him I was looking for a…damn, what was it, a hook-in?”

“Hookup?”

“Yes, that’s the one. And he agreed.”

“Then you’re definitely overthinking it.” At that, Allura met Pidge’s eyes, and she grinned. “If you’ve talked about it and are on the same page, then what’s the issue? Enjoy yourself. You wouldn’t be the only one.”

“I’m not?” Allura shot up, and Pidge shrugged.

“I mean… well, I can’t confirm or deny, but I did hear something from Shiro’s room the other night that may or may not have been—”

“Shiro?!” Allura yelled, and she and Pidge both froze when they heard a thump from the other room.

“Sorry—I thought it was empty,” a deep voice said from the other room, and Pidge could have sworn she heard another say, “How did she know?”

Had her guess actually been right?

She and Allura looked at each other, then burst into giggles.

Shiro had left by the time they got out and got dressed, and Pidge made her way back to her room, skin warm, toes tingling.

Mind ablaze.

Allura and Lance, huh? Well, she could see it, though when she’d heard the occasional moan and/or thump through the wall, she’d thought Allura was in there with Shiro. But if it wasn’t her, it was…

Well, either Keith or Coran.

_Wild_ , she thought, giddy.

She slipped into her room and threw off her sweats, changing into a comfortable cami and night shorts before slamming open the secret door between her and Hunk’s rooms.

“Hunk! You’re never going to belie—”

She stopped.

He was sprawled out on his bed, head on his arm, watching something on his portable terminal.

His hand decidedly down his pants.

“Oh,” he said, using his free hand to press on what sounded like some spicy alien porn.

Or an alien cooking show. Pidge was surprised sometimes how alike the two could sound.

But one he didn’t watch with one hand.

“I…didn’t know when you were gonna get back,” he said, as he observed her crossed arms. She was pretty proud of how stern she could look these days. After the months she’d spent dealing with five dudes and a princess, she’d had plenty of practice.

“I can’t believe…” she said, approaching him, enjoying the way his eyes were glued to her, reading her mock-anger, “you started without me!”

She jumped over the console and into bed with him, and he caught her, squishing her to him and kissing her, deep, his hands wasting no time sliding to her back, her ass.

She loved his hands.

She squirmed into the curve of his body, his erection growing harder as it settled against her ass, and he pressed play.

“What’s even going on?”

“Oh, well, the Sqeblar came in demanding a…well, it was a little unclear but it was very insistent, and then the—”

“No, no, I mean, what’s that blue mitochondria-looking thing?”

“Oh. Yeah…I don’t know.”

“And you were still getting off to it?” Pidge squinted at the screen. She didn’t think she needed Matt’s glasses, but now she wondered. And wondered if she could somehow jury-rig Lasik in the castle. “Is that thing…docking?”

“Oh, no, that’s picking up these little sacs of…,” Hunk’s hand froze where it was stroking her hip, and he reached over to pause it again. “You know what, we can start it over.”

His hand returned not to her hip, but her breasts, gripping her solidly as he rotated her beneath him.

“Later,” she squeaked, in-between kisses.

“Later,” he agreed. 

He gripped her waist and she slid a leg over his thigh, just touching his length through his sweatpants. He must have been horny—they were no strangers to each other, but usually they took their sweet time kissing, stroking, touching. Teasing. It’d become a game to them, to push each other longer and longer pre-penetration, to see who would ask for it first.

This time, he wasn’t playing around, his hand squarely down her shorts, his finger on her clit.

She’d have to take her time in the baths more often.

She snuck her hand between their bodies, kissing his adam’s apple as she shoved his sweatpants down, taking him in her hand. She’d been so thankful the first time they’d slept together that he hadn’t been huge, certainly not as big as his bulk would have had her believe. They’d been all hands, fumbling, though he’d had enough experience to make her first time not as terrible as she’d been led to believe. She never would have thought to use lube, but when she’d asked him about it later he’d just shrugged, saying it was usually a good idea.

At that very moment, she was plenty wet on her own. He’d found her spot, he’d gotten so good at reading her in the months they’d been about this, and she squirmed against him, trying to reciprocate but failing as her senses went into overload, her grip loosening.

But he was happy anyway, she knew. He loved to disable her, to make her fall to pieces in those big hands, to hear her gasp his name into his chest as she came, once, twice, in quick succession.

He settled onto his back and pushed his sweatpants down just enough as she rid herself of her shorts, climbing on. She liked this faster pace, his desire that had bubbled to the surface. Usually he was such a giving, patient lover. It was nice to see some of the patience stripped away.

He gripped the edge of her camisole as he maneuvered her into position, tugging it so the material brushed her pert, sensitive nipples. She stared down at him, but his shit-eating grin told her he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

Fine.

Turnabout’s fair play.

He tugged her down but she resisted, angling so his tip slid down, getting a taste of her slickness, but slipping out. Again, he maneuvered her, and again, she angled wrong, and he slid through.

Again, and again.

She started to wonder if maybe her sweet, earnest man was honestly confused about the angle.

And then her world shifted, and she found herself under him, prone, her legs hooked over his arms.

“Heh,” she laughed, and he, remorseless, entered her.

And didn’t move.

“You really wanna keep teasing me?” he asked, sarcastic. She grinned and he started to slide out, which wiped the smile straight from her face.

“I’m sorry, Hunk, sir.”

“Mm-hm,” he said, kissing her nose. He slid back in, deep, once, and she meeped her contentment.

But he’d stopped again.

“Sorry for what?”

“Sorry for teasing you, Hunk, sir.”

This time he kissed her forehead, and she got two more long, full strokes.

Someday she’d get him for this, but at the moment, she was happy to be contrite, to be shown the error of her ways.

A pause.

“Will it happen again?”

“Of course not, Hunk, sir,” she said, but couldn’t help needling him just a little. “O Captain, my Captain.”

“I’m not sure I like your tone, paladin.”

Damn her mouth. “A t-thousand apologies, sir.”

She bit her lip, his micro-movements driving her insane.

“As a paladin, we must uphold the highest standards of honor and respect,” he went on, pulling out just a little more. She’d grabbed the pillow, holding on for dear life.

“I’m so sorry, s-sir.”

“The time for apologies has passed, Katie,” he whispered, the use of her real name making her shiver. God, she loved when he said it. He was the only one on this goddamn space vessel that saw her as a woman and loved her for it, for the kind of woman she was, her own brand of femininity that toed the line of tradition. He was her greatest champion.

And right now, her dear tormentor.

“Bad paladins need to be punished,” he said, and plunged back into her.

Their play was silly, their own goofy imitation of the sterner stuff that she imagined someone like Shiro would be able to pull off with a straight face…though she generally didn’t want to imagine him fucking anyone; he was like a father to her. But their jokes, their teasing had helped them get past the awkward stage, finding common ground in laughter. They’d relaxed into each other, and their relationship, not to mention the sex, had improved because of it.

Something she was very thankful for now, as she was being pile-driven straight to heaven.

But he slowed, stopped, sliding out and turning her on her side. He laid behind her, and she bit her lip as he re-oriented, sliding in once more. It had become one of her favorite positions, because his hands could so easily access all of her. And even now, they did - one sliding across her chest to get a firm hold on her breast, the other slipping between her legs, stimulating her clit.

And not too long later, she came, hard, not even sure when it stopped as his thrusts prolonged each delicious shake of her body.

Hunk, on the other hand, took his sweet time in coming.

Partially, Pidge thought, because he knew how much she liked it when he did.

But it finally became too much, and he gripped her hips, holding her as he released, shuddering into her. She braced herself, letting him come down slow before leaning back to kiss him slow, soft.

He slid out and she turned, pillowing her head on her crossed arms, kissing his chin.

“That was fun,” she said, and he laughed.

“You’re telling me,” he said, then stopped, grabbing her ass with enough force that there was a little slap, startling her out of her relaxed post-coital reverie.

“What were you going to tell me?”

“What?” Her brow furrowed, thinking back.

“When you came in!”

“Oh? OH!” She pushed herself up. “It wasn’t Allura!”

“What wasn’t?”

“With Shiro!”

“It wasn’t?!” He propped himself up. “Who was it?”

“I don’t know!”

“Then how do you know it wasn’t Allura?”

“That’s, well…!” Pidge didn’t want to reveal Allura’s confession, as it had been told in confidence. “It’s a secret.”

Hunk’s glinting grin, combined with a teasing finger running from the back of her knee to her hip, ignited something within her.

“I have my ways of making you talk.”

She smirked back, feral.

“Give it your best shot, big guy.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro was still puzzling out how Allura had known he was there by the time they went back to the baths. 

“Maybe it was just a lucky guess,” Keith said, stripping his shirt over his head. They’d gone in for a quick spar while waiting for the baths to open, and Shiro had welcomed the physical exertion. He was always keyed up and focused while leading the paladins in the Black Lion, but piloting the Lion or forming Voltron just wasn’t as physically demanding as hand-to-hand combat.

When he was fighting with his body, he could sink into that quasi-meditative state, flow; access the part of his mind that usually was filled with static, stress, the endless minutiae of his day-to-day. But punching, blocking, dodging, moving his body across space in response to another—the exertion pushed everything else away, clearing his mind.

Allowing him blissful peace.

And Keith was a good sparring partner. He wasn’t the most socially-adjusted paladin (though between cocksure Lance and self-effacing Hunk, Shiro felt like that was a blessing), but he could read another’s body language like no one other. He could feel Shiro out, tell what he needed, adapt to meet it. And because of it, Shiro didn’t need to hold back.

He allowed Shiro to be selfish.

Keith slipped his folded clothes into the baskets set aside for the purpose and slid the door open, the humid steam seeping in through.

“You coming? Or just gonna stare?” Keith said, not waiting for an answer as he walked in. Shiro wasn’t sure what to say to that, but he picked up the pace just the same.

They hadn’t talked.

Shiro had gone back to studying battle plans, not wanting to wake the finally-sleeping Keith, but he’d fallen asleep at the desk. He woke hours later, blanket draped over his shoulders, Keith nowhere to be found.

And the day had happened, full of a million things to do. Allura had called him into a few diplomatic meetings with members of the resistance, and he’d led training. He’d reviewed reports over a dinner he’d taken in his own room, but when he found himself reading the same paragraph three times over, he knew he needed to step away.

He’d run into Keith at the entrance of the baths, before they’d realized the girls were already there.

So they’d sparred, stalling the inevitable. But now, as Shiro rattled open the old door and entered the hazy baths, he would have to face what happened.

Face? No, that was too stark.

Process.

He dipped a toe in the bath, testing, before heading to a shower. Keith had just finished rinsing, and stood, dripping.

Facing Shiro.

Who only had time to turn on the water before Keith was there, lips hard against his, a hand in his hair, pulling him down.

Processing was off the table.

Keith kissed him again, less sure, fingers losing their grip, but Shiro’s arm around his waist bolstered him again. Shiro’d cupped the back of Keith’s head for leverage with his right hand before he realized, but when he tried to pull it back he found Keith’s firm grip on his wrist.

“Leave it,” he said, and went back to his work of giving Shiro leave of his senses. He traced Shiro’s collarbones, his jaw; pulled his hands across Shiro’s shoulder blades, down his ribs, across his pecs; appreciating Shiro’s body with his palms. The touch, combined with the warm water, was intoxicating; the smell of Altean mineral salts and soaps on Keith’s skin even more so. It was an earth smell, the closest anything on this ship came to feeling like ground beneath their feet.

Shiro cherished that.

He smoothed his hands down Keith’s sides, still so self-conscious of his right arm, the metal slowly warming in the heat but probably still cool to the touch. Keith had returned his hands to Shiro’s hair, his biceps, his chin, cupping his face and bringing it down to meet him.

But despite his passion, evident where their hips met each other, Keith kept his hands above the belt.

Hesitating.

“Keith,” Shiro said, pulling back just enough to see Keith in the pouring water, as the younger man swept Shiro’s white lock of hair from his eyes. “What’s up?”

Keith’s questioning gaze undid Shiro, but he kept his face blank, a skill he’d built up over the last months. Years.

“I’d, well,” he paused, biting his lip. “I’d like to fuck you.”

The words had come out in a jumbled rush, and it took Shiro a minute to parse them.

“Isn’t that what we did last night?”

“No, well, yes,” Keith said, pushing his hair back with one hand, revealing every muscle on his well-toned body. “I meant with more, like. Penetration.”

Shiro shivered despite the heat, and leaned down to kiss Keith, taking his time, sliding his tongue across Keith’s wet, soft lips.

“I’d like that,” he said, when he finally pulled his lips from Keith’s. He thought back on the night before as he kissed down Keith’s neck, shoulders, shuddering as Keith slid his hand down his painfully erect cock. Shiro’s sex drive had come back with a vengeance.

“I get the feeling,” he continued, “it’s not something you’d like me to do to you.” The last word came out as a sigh, as Keith closed his hand around the shaft, giving it a firm tug.

“I’ve tried it,” Keith said, shrugging into Shiro’s mouth on his shoulder, “it’s just not for me.”

“Fair enough,” Shiro said, recapturing Keith’s lips once before meeting his eyes. “I’m sure there plenty other things I can do for you.”

“Plenty,” Keith said, and placed his thumb just under the tip as he again tugged up.

Shiro got the feeling he was going to have to work hard to give back as good as he was getting, when this was all over.

But damn, if he wasn’t going to enjoy himself before then.

 

* * *

 

Keith had spent the whole day agonizing.

He’d left sometime in the night, grateful for what had happened between them, but unsure of what it might mean. For once, he was glad he was relieved of his paladin duties—after all, it allowed him to spend the day away, ostensibly on patrol, but using the time to piece together his feelings.

By the time he’d returned, he had a tenuous grasp on the truth.

When he’d met Shiro in the hall by chance, he’d become reasonably sure.

And then when they’d sparred, he’d confirmed it.

He enjoyed Shiro’s company, their partnership. That was all there was to it, really. Whether they were fighting or fucking, there was a bond there, an easy understanding, a flow.

And that was more valuable to him than anything.

When he kissed Shiro in the shower, it was to test his hypothesis, to see if Shiro felt the same.

It seemed now that he did.

Keith led them both to the water’s edge, and stepped down as Shiro took a seat on the rim. The way he lounged exuded a casual confidence, the pose of someone effortlessly secure in himself. It was that confidence, more than anything, that Keith admired.

It also was an incredible view, his cock hard against his chiseled abs, waiting for Keith’s attention. Condensation slipping down his chest, his engaged biceps.

Shiro’s knowing smile as he watched Keith take him in.

_Damn_.

He slid his hands up Shiro’s thighs, leaning in to plant a kiss on his chest. He experimentally flicked his thumb over Shiro’s nipple, then slid his hand to grip Shiro’s side, bracing himself as he made his way lower.

He took Shiro in his mouth, and the low growl he elicited was everything.

It took everything Keith had to resist going as hard as he had the night before, but this time he wanted to slow things down, enjoy every moment. Last night had been a much-needed release, brought about by a lowered barrier, an invitation, an admission. The floodgates had opened, and desire had poured through, unabated.

Now the waters had leveled, and there was time to explore, discover. Keith bobbed his head down once, twice, before taking in as much as he could. Admittedly it wasn’t much; Shiro was packing plenty, and Keith was out of practice. But by the hand in his hair and the hitched breaths, Shiro didn’t seem to mind much.

So Keith kept it up, varying his speed, depth, pressure. He’d knelt, freeing his hands so he could work them on Shiro’s shaft, sliding one up as the other stroked his sack, cupping it, squeezing just hard enough for the pressure to compliment what his mouth was doing above.

He glanced up to Shiro, and found his eyes closed, face flushed in the heat. Even as open as he was in this moment, he didn’t seem vulnerable, just relaxed, content. Keith smiled into the shaft as he returned to his work, licking and lubricating as he went. He stroked the newly-wetted member with his right hand as he lubricated a few of his own fingers.

Slowly, he ran them down Shiro’s inner thigh, between his legs, giving Shiro notice. 

And then, without pausing, he slid a finger in.

The response was immediate, dramatic. Shiro bucked into his mouth, and Keith had to slide his head back in order to not nick Shiro with his teeth. He let his finger rest, allowing Shiro to adjust, expand, before he started to slowly ramp up, to match the rhythm of his other hand.

He took it slow, wanting to prolong the whole experience as long as possible, but after Keith had slipped a second finger in and stretched him just enough, Shiro grabbed his wrist.

It was now or never.

Keith leaned forward as Shiro laid back, and spit into his hand, rubbing himself down.

He positioned himself, and slowly, gently, entered.

He paused, wanting Shiro get used to the new heft within, but Shiro grabbed Keith’s hand and guided it to his cock. He kept his hand over Keith’s, controlling the motion.

It was a lot for Keith to handle.

He pushed in just a little more before sliding back, his strokes not long, but slow, the pressure around him already enough to bring him close. But he had to hold out.

Shiro tightened his grip on Keith’s hand, his gaze stern.

“Keith,” he said, his jaw tight. “Fuck me.”

And he did.

Shiro came moments later, spilling onto his chest, into their hands. The sight of Shiro running his hand through his own hair as he did, riding out his pleasure unabashed, was enough for Keith to follow suit. He buried himself, folding over as the waves overtook him.

It was a long moment before he could right himself, and another before he’d collected himself to slide out. Shiro helped him up and nodded to the shower, and they cleaned up in silence, punctuated occasionally by a wandering hand, a quick kiss.

By the time they went to actually soak, Keith had most of his thoughts back.

Which was good, because it seemed that Shiro wanted to talk.

“Keith,” he started, then sighed, searching for words. He kept his metal arm out of the bath, giving him an extremely casual posture whether he liked it or not. “Don’t get me wrong, because this is…great. But I want to be clear where we stand.”

Keith looked over, nervous. Shiro sighed again.

“There’s not a good way to ask, but—this is just sex, right?”

Keith laughed and stretched, leaning his head back and looking up to the ceiling. “Yeah.”

“Great,” Shiro said, ruffling his hair.

They parted that night with a kiss and a waved goodbye, and Keith slept more soundly than he had in a long, long while.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, training was suspended. A Galran ship had flown too close to one of the moons; a scout or a fluke, they couldn’t be sure. The paladins had flown out, taken a few knocks, assembled Voltron, and defeated the threat.

The attack renewed the immediacy of their training, reinforced the importance of learning how to protect their allies against their enemy. To learn to work together under pressure.

It also served as a reminder that anything could happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this far! I hope you enjoyed chapter 3... and boy oh boy, get ready, because chapter 4's a real doozy. A roller coaster, if you will.
> 
> If you enjoy All Cats, please let me know! I love Kudos & Comments, but more than that, please share with your friends! And if you enjoy it, subscribe so you don't miss a chapter - I'll be posting every Sunday!


	4. Curiosity Killed the Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro gets his groove back; Allura takes Keith up on his offer, at the expense of Lance’s heart; Pidge’s experiment gets out of hand when an intruder reveals much more than she and Hunk had bargained for.
> 
> And no one ate dinner that night.

* * *

 

Well, they’d fought, and won. As skirmishes went, it was pretty routine, but it had still been a surprise. His team had performed admirably, but there was still so much room for improvement.

Shiro closed his eyes, giving them a respite from the glare of the screens before him, charts of the data from their fight and the stills the Castle’s computer had taken of their sortie bright against the dark room. Shiro had asked to have the cameras set up to shoot whenever they thought, thinking the footage would help them better self-evaluate their performance, but video recording was still dubious at best, shaky and hard to analyze at the best of times. So stills it was, moments frozen in time which they could dissect to see how and when the Galra attacked, to examine what each paladin’s response had been. Hunk was always just a little behind on the sallies, because he’d stay in the defensive flank until he was sure whichever paladin he was protecting had made away safely. Lance had improved, but he still hadn’t quite mastered the speed of the Red Lion. He was more cautious than Keith, and it showed—not that it was a bad thing, necessarily.

Allura had been a downright mess. He’d have to talk to her, but…the last thing he wanted to do was shake her confidence, when she’d made so much progress. She had the talent, the feel—she just needed to trust in her own instincts, and put the larger picture out of her mind while she was piloting Blue. In the castle and in the resistance, Allura was the leader. But in a Lion, she needed to put those feelings aside and leave the big calls to him.

He hoped she knew he had all of their best interests at heart, hers very included. He hoped what he thought was right, was.

He stepped back, stretched. The analyzing was getting him nowhere, especially without someone to bounce theories against. Keith had always been good at strategy, at figuring out action items for improvement, but he was in a meeting with the Blades. He’d be back, but who knew when that would be. And while Lance was a good support, he didn’t have the eye for squad-based battle strategy. He was the passionate cheerleader the Paladins of Voltron needed. Someone with unshakeable faith in the team, who could be counted on to support others through the hard decisions. Keith had told him what Lance had said, about taking a bow if he needed to, and that had really meant something—after all, while Keith had the Blades, Lance’s aspirations and passions, along with an inadvisable amount of his self-worth lay in being a paladin. He was exactly where they all needed him to be.

Allura…well, on another day, he might ask her, but she’d slipped away quickly after they’d returned, in a way that signaled to him she needed some time to herself.

So Shiro did what any good leader should do: he stepped away.

There was no point in pushing himself when he’d hit a wall. A walk would do him good, get the blood pumping again in his tired muscles. He’d do a quick tour, maybe grab a bite, then come back and review the stills again.

He’d made it to the mess hall and poured himself a glass of green goo when Coran stuck his head in.

“All right there, then, Shiro?”

“Yeah, just taking a break.”

“Ah, yes, breaks are good. Rest is important!” Coran said, straightening his jacket. He fiddled with the button holes and took a quick look through the hall before stepping inside the mess and letting the door close behind him.

“Speaking of rests, I’m, well, going to take a quick trip down to Olkarion. I’ve got a bit of, well, business down there.”

“Business?”

Coran looked left and right, making sure no one else was in the clearly empty room before dramatically leaning in.

“I’ve, ah, got a lady waiting.”

“You’ve got a girlfriend?”

“Ah,” Coran said, hand to his forehead, a pose he took often when he wanted to look dashing. “Not a _girlfriend_ , exactly. A nice lady, very refined.” He waggled his eyebrows. “She might have a friend I could introduce you to, if you’re interested.”

 _Oh_.

“Thanks, Coran—I appreciate the offer, but I think I’m okay here.”

“Ah, well, right then. Up to you, of course. The offer stands.” Coran waved. “Think you’ll all be all right here for a few ticks?”

“Go—we’ll manage somehow,” Shiro joked, but it made Coran beam nonetheless.

“Righto, be back soon!”

Shiro could hear him whistling as he made his way down the hall to the drop ships, and couldn’t help smiling. Good for Coran. The man worked just as hard as the rest of them, though he was often working longer hours, keeping the Castle and the stores shipshape while also managing the day-to-day of the resistance. Having the Olkari assistance helped, but still, more things fell to Coran than he would ever admit.

But Coran’s words had planted the idea of sex in Shiro’s mind, and now he had another reason his focus was drifting.

And Keith wasn’t around.

Well, he couldn’t always rely on Keith for these things, either. That wasn’t fair to either of them. He’d just have to ignore it…or.

He could take care of it himself.

It had been ages since he’d taken things, quite literally, into his own hands. So much had been going on in his life—confusing, life-threatening things—he had lost much of his sex drive. Seems like his recent assignations had reawakened it, which was probably for the best.

It was a sign his body was slowly, steadily returning to normal.

He downed the rest of his juice and headed back to his room, wondering where the rest of the paladins had gone midday. Usually people would filter into the lounge, to read or play games, or sometimes to bicker, in the case of Lance and Keith. Shiro had to smile at that, though it did become grating after a while. Lance had the same chip on his shoulder that Matt had when he’d entered the Garrison, always determined to best Shiro even though Matt was years younger and less experienced. But he had a similar good-natured drive, and their one-sided competition had changed into a deep friendship.

Shiro really had to smile at that. Those had been some times.

He locked his door behind him, figuring anyone who needed him badly enough could call or use the alarms, and stripped. His clothes were sweaty—he hadn’t really showered after the fight, wanting to review it immediately—so he threw them into the hamper instead of rehanging them.

A shower, there was a thought.

He stepped in and turned on the water, letting it steam and warm the room. He tried not to catch his reflection in the mirror above the sink. He knew who he’d become, but it was one thing to feel the changes, and another to see him. This other him, this man with white in his hair and a scar on his nose, with a synthetic arm. This damaged man, who couldn’t remember how he’d become so.

Who the paladins still trusted to lead them to safety.

He stepped into the pelting water, letting it warm his skin and wash away his insecurities. The water tink-tinked on his right arm, and he tried to shut out the sound as best he could, keeping his head under the steady stream so the rush dampened the noise.

He took a deep breath in, and out. Matt’s incessant nagging and self-satisfed snobbery had prompted Shiro to go to yoga at the Garrison, if only to shut his friend up; and though he’d been skeptical at first, he’d learned to find comfort in the ritual of it all. Not only did the stretching keep him limber as he aged, letting his bulk flow through battle, but the breathing techniques helped center him.

This time, he breathed in for four counts, held it for four, exhaled for four, and was empty for four. He repeated the pattern until the tension had released his shoulders, until he had opened that spot of his heart he’d always considered a spiritual center, the tether of his soul.

The place he connected with the Black Lion.

Only when he’d found that calm, that peace within him, did he turn his attention to himself.

He was already half-erect, and it took only a few light strokes to get him to full. Another deep breath and he let his thoughts of the battle truly fall away, replacing them with the events of the night before, and the night before that. How he’d extended an offer, that Keith had accepted with an enthusiasm that Shiro hadn’t expected, but had welcomed.

If only it was always so easy.

He warmed up with loose, long strokes, letting the motion be easy, regular. Blood rushed to region, and he slowed it a little, running his thumb over the head, pulling the skin back. Part of him wanted to imagine it was another hand doing all this, that he might open his eyes to find ember eyes framed by a mess of black hair staring up at him, calculating Shiro’s pleasure even as he took his own; or perhaps, flowing white hair framing an enigmatic expression that Shiro’s imagination couldn’t make clear. Maybe he’d see it firsthand, one day.

But, no. It had been so long since he got in touch with himself that he wanted to find his own pleasure. While he never needed a partner, but he also found sometimes he didn’t want one.

After all, who knew his desires better than himself?

He tightened his grip, his hold firm, just loose enough to slide down his skin without chafing. He pulled in long, slow strokes, incrementally increasing the rhythm in line with the heat building in his loins. He used to be so good at this, but it had been so long. His body was still learning how to respond to more than the routine, base-level amount of care he’d been giving it.

He really needed to pay more attention to his own well-being.

His need started to flag, and he realized his thoughts had been drifting. He refocused on the matter at hand, adjusting his grip to search for the hidden nodes of pleasure, knowing they’d blossom if he could pull his calloused fingertips across the much more sensitive skin.

Though he’d been trying to take his time, he felt a sudden surge and carried himself there, audibly exhaling as he came, the shudder shaking the stress from his body. The warmth of the water was an immediate balm, comforting him as he came back from that momentary ecstasy.

It took more deep breaths before he’d recovered enough to clean up, and he lingered under the water, letting his hands roam his body, to feel as he washed.

By the time he finished, he’d come to the conclusion that what he really needed was a nap. More sleep would do him good, and he could come back to the charts that evening, fresh and rested.

Everything would be fine for a few hours.

 

* * *

 

That dogfight, for such a small confrontation, had shaken Allura. There had been too many close shaves, moments where she’d lost control of her thoughts, her emotions.

Her Lion.

 _That_ she didn’t want to admit to, confront. She wanted to be the paladin she knew she could be, the paladin her father had been, but fighting in a Lion was so much more visceral than fighting from the safety of the castle. In the Blue Lion she could do anything, which was a blessing as much as it was a curse. After all, if she could do anything, she should be able to do everything.

Her thoughts haunted her long after she’d showered, changed. She’d put extra care into her routine, drawing it out, trying to do everything to expand this private time, as if having an exfoliated face and perfectly-brushed hair would give her the confidence to approach the others as she had every other day.

As though, if she were put together perfectly on the outside, no one could see what a mess she felt like inside.

But time moved on, and when she found herself with no other lotion to apply, she sighed and dressed. Shiro would be wanting to debrief.

When she made it to their strategy room, it was not Shiro she found.

“Keith,” she said, and he turned from where he studied the trails of battle color-coded on the display before him.

“Is everyone okay?” He asked, a tension in his voice giving away the worry in his otherwise stoic stare.

“Y-Yes, we’re all fine,” she said, and he sighed, closing down the display.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and she stepped fully into the room, crossing the distance between them.

“Oh, Keith,” she sighed, watching him clench and unclench his fists, caught between anger and remorse. His seething exhales punctuated the silence, and she understood too well the frustration of being only able to assist from the sidelines. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I abandoned the other paladins, didn’t I?”

“No,” she said. “You followed your heart to find a mission only you can accomplish. And who knows what that will bring?”

Even Allura wasn’t sure that’s how she really felt about the whole thing, but now wasn’t the time to bring up past grievances and personal insecurities.

He looked at her, so like a wounded animal, shoulders curved and eyes hard. They all had their struggles. Allura had lost her people, her culture, but Keith had been shut out from the start, given only an unhelpful hint about his heritage before being thrown into the universe. To lose everything you’d once known, or to be denied something you never had—which was worse?

She held out her arms, offering the only thing she could: the connection of another.

“Are you…offering me a hug?”

Allura shrugged, and that broke Keith’s melancholy.

The corner of his mouth turned up just enough, and he stepped forward into her, wrapping his arms around her back. He was shorter than Lance, almost of a height with her, and his hands were so tense.

But still, it was nice.

She leaned into him, and he brushed his hand through her hair, sliding it down to her lower back. His breath was hot on her neck, and she found herself running her own hand across his shoulders, feathering the hair at the back of her neck.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t ever thought about it—she’d considered all her options, early on. But though they’d had their moments like this, they’d also had their disagreements, their moments of distrust. And he had never seemed as openly approachable.

Maybe it was just that she’d never noticed his pain through eyes clouded by her own.

She turned her head, meeting his eyes.

And that’s how Lance found them.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I interrupting?” He asked, voice too loud, caustic.

Allura broke back, though Keith didn’t release her; a glint in his eye spoiling for a fight. But at a look from her he let his arms fall, a little shrug in his shoulder.

 _Interesting_.

“Lance,” she started, but he continued.

“Oh, no, don’t mind me,” he said, stepping out from where he leaned on the door. “You were very clear about the nature of our situation.”

“Situation?” Keith said, but she stepped in front of him.

“ _Lance_ ,” She sighed. This jealousy was what she’d been trying to avoid…no. Was it jealousy? Or insecurity?

“I get it, Keith’s a good-looking guy,” he started, and Allura could feel that he was about to go into a monologue, self-effacing, trying to protect himself from feeling hurt.

Or worse, feeling like he was replaceable.

“What?” Keith said, but Allura wasn’t paying attention.

“Lance!” She stepped up to him, looking him in the eye as best she could. “First, I am allowed to hug whoever I please, whenever I please, no matter what our relationship to each other may be or may become.”

“Relationship?”

“Become?”

 _Quizznak_.

“Second, just hugging does not mean I’m going to sleep with someone. A hug can just be a hug, as can holding hands, kissing. These are ways of expression, not pledges of sexual intention.”

“Sexual—”

“ _Keith_ , if you could just give us a moment here,” Allura snapped, and turned back to Lance, who was now looking over her shoulder. She tugged on his jacket to get his attention, but once she had it, she wasn’t sure what she should say. After all, she didn’t think he was going to like what she was about to say.

“Lance…as much as I care about you, and I do, there may be times I will want to sleep with Keith, or Shiro, or anyone except, well, Coran.” His shoulders sagged, but she continued. “It doesn’t mean I like you any less, and for me, it doesn’t change what you mean to me.”

“Allura,” he said, though his shoulders had rounded, his crossed arms defensive. She heard Keith breathing behind her—poor Keith, caught in the crossfire of something that should have been said in private, and poor Lance, for having to have this conversation before his, what had Pidge called it, ‘frenemy’?—and thought maybe it was best to move on.

“Lance…I’m sorry, I know that was a lot. If you want some time to think about it…”

“Think about what?” He said, smile sneaking back onto his face. “You’ve been pretty clear this whole time. It’s fine. If you wanna go off with Keith, I’ll give you your privacy.”

He started toward the door, but Keith spoke up.

“You don’t have to go.”

Allura and Lance both turned very slowly to Keith, who lounged on the now disabled console, the glint in his eyes still holding the hint of challenge.

“So you _were_ going to do it?” Lance said, more questioning than accusatory. Keith shrugged.

“Keith, _are_ you saying you’re interested?”

“If it’s on the table, sure.”

“On the table?!”

“Figuratively, Lance.” He looked back to Allura, who’d been left reeling by the lightning-turnabout of her situation. “If you’re not interested, that’s fine, of course.”

Even the way he said it needled Lance. Allura could see it in the way he straightened, frowned. This whole situation could become explosive.

Or, she thought, feeling almost eclipsed by the tension between the two, it could become amazing.

She had to phrase this just right. She met Keith’s eyes for a moment and suddenly realized that he was a master politician, when he wanted something. He knew how to engineer a reaction, and to get this to happen, she’d have to take a page from his book.

The fact that he was so invested in his new proposition made her all the more determined to see it succeed.

“Lance…If you’re not up for it—”

She didn’t get the chance to finish.

“Oh, I’m up for it,” he said, striding forward. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Keith.”

Oh boy.

Keith pushed off the console and sauntered over, as Lance stood at her back, running his hands down her waist.

What had she gotten herself into?

 

* * *

 

Surprise had been a constant companion to Lance ever since they’d found Blue on Earth that fateful day, what felt like thousands of years ago, in another life. The universe had so much more to offer than he’d ever been, and would ever be able to conceptualize, and though he generally considered himself an adventurous man, a few too many distasteful experiments with of mystery alien food and a couple misunderstandings concerning body language with aliens who didn’t share the same physiology had tempered his zeal for experimentation.

But none of that had prepared him for this.

Sure, he’d watched plenty of porn in his life. He was a healthy young man with plenty of healthy appetites, and knew enough of the world to know that these things did happen between consenting adults. And the appeal of group sex was clear, though in his mind he’d always imagined he’d be the one man surrounded by women.

This, however, was different for the fact that it was real, and that it was happening to him, at this moment. That it involved people he knew, cared for. Allura, of course, but also Keith, in his way. And that it involved seeing them in a context for which he felt utterly unprepared.

And it seemed, in that last part, he was alone.

Keith had leaned in to kiss Allura—it was happening, there, in front of him—their lips pressed together, eyes closed, intimate, save for their erstwhile voyeur. Keith’s hands slipped in to Allura’s waist, above where Lance’s rested on her hips. He was making space for himself while Lance stood frozen.

Lance had to act.

He gripped Allura’s hips, and was delighted to elicit a squeak of surprise. He held her hips to his, allowing her to feel how hard he was, how much he wanted her despite the situation.

Despite? Or because?

Even he wasn’t sure anymore. Keith opened his eyes and met Lance’s stare, not breaking the kiss, and the focus sent shivers down Lance’s back. Shivers that transferred to Allura, and her moan was muffled by Keith’s mouth, his tongue, as Lance watched it slip inside. He was close enough to smell Keith’s scent, somehow spiced like cinnamon and clove. Had he found some sort of cologne he hadn’t told the rest about? Or was that just his natural musk?

Lance was suddenly sure he’d never thought the word “musk” in his entire life.

He nuzzled his nose into Allura’s smooth hair, sliding it aside to find her skin. He kissed it at first, lightly nipping as he went, then harder, sucking the flesh in between his lips. She leaned back into him, hands sliding down onto his, interlacing fingers with his.

And then, something in the hallway clattered.

They broke apart, each looking to the door, Lance last. He wasn’t sure he wanted to face anyone that found them, but the door was shut. They hadn’t been seen.

“Let’s go somewhere…more private.”

“Agreed,” Allura said, holding out her hand to Lance. This seemed like his chance to leave, to pretend like this never happened. To let them go off together and hope, pray she still wanted to come back to him again.

But the fact that she still wanted to hold hands with him…that made all the difference.

That, and the rush he’d felt when he’d felt Keith’s eyes on him, watching.

That was just a fluke, right?

They made it unseen through the hallway, and though it wasn’t obvious that they were up to anything, Lance was keenly aware of his nerves, of how his steps were a little too long. Of how he couldn’t quite keep his eyes off Keith’s shoulders, wondering where he was leading them.

Oh, of course.

Keith’s room.

The door slid open to a room with a layout that mirrored Lance’s. They’d been given rooms next to each other, with Shiro, Pidge, and Hunk on the other side of the hall, and the Alteans in their separate quarters on the other side of the lounge. But where Lance’s room was strewn with the artifacts of daily life, Keith’s was nearly as clean as it was the day they got there. Hell, the bed was made.

It looked like a guest room, almost.

But no, there were touches of his personality. The little Lion charm Coran had made each of them sat central on a bookshelf, lording over other tchotchkes he’d gotten over his travels.

Including the little strip of photo stickers Lance had bullied them into all doing, having been so excited at finding a photo booth in space.

“Dude, your room is so clea—” he started, before finding himself deep in a kiss, Allura’s arms around his neck. Whatever observations he’d had were erased in the smell, the feel of her, warm and grasping for his hair, for him.

Was there anything about this woman he didn’t like?

She pushed his jacket down off his shoulders, and he barely managed to strip off the rest before her hands were under his shirt, sliding that up and off, too. Keith now stood where Lance had, unbuttoning the back of Allura’s dress, watching the show before him. Though they’d been in close proximity plenty of times, Lance had never undressed — rather, actively been undressed — in front of another man, much less Keith.

He wanted to pull away, to cover himself, but then Keith’s lips pulled up just a bit…was it a small smirk?

No. He wouldn’t pull away. He couldn’t lose.

He leaned down into Allura, tugging forward as Keith loosened the garment until the top part fell down, revealing her to the waist. Keith, quick bastard, slid his hands to her breasts, massaging, pinching, serving Lance the visual feast he’d wanted to experience himself. Allura leaned back into Keith, and he kissed her jaw, her ear, as he caressed, tugged.

Fuck, it was a good look.

He was so distracted about their shared passion he hadn’t realized her hands were at his waist until he heard the zip, felt the top button of his jeans come loose.

Oh, no. She wasn’t going to let her think for a second that he’d be that easy.

After all, she got them into this. It was high time to have her reflect on her actions.

And to remember why she’d enjoyed sex with him in the first place.

He knelt, kissing her stomach, cupping her ass as he moved to tug her dress down the rest of the way. He felt her muscles tense; after all, she knew very well what he was about. Another tug and it crumpled to the floor, freeing her ass, her hips. She was bare before them, between them, one hand behind her, around Keith’s neck; the other in Lance’s hair as he buried his face between her legs.

Her shudder and her near-whispered “Oh, Lance,” made this all worth it.

He continued his advance, slipping his fingers through to part her for better access, letting his hands trace her sensitive areas. He had no idea what Keith was doing, but it was, he was sure, nowhere near as effective as Lance’s tongue, his nails.

He slipped a finger inside—had she been so wet before?

Experimentally, he slid in another.

It didn’t take long until she was totally undone, smashing his head against her as she came, no—as he made her come, gave her that sweet release. She pulled him up to her and kissed him, not minding that his face was still wet. He leaned into it, relishing in what he’d given her, letting her feel how ready he was through his boxer-bound erection. She slid her fingers up and down it, the pressure only hard enough to tease, tempt. He whined against her lips as she pulled his boxers down over him, freeing him. She kissed him again, this time working her way down his chest, down to kneel.

Which put him face to face with Keith.

Who leaned in for a kiss of his own.

It was soft, sweeter in many ways than Allura’s kisses had been. Where she’d been spice and passion, Keith’s was a rich burn, like a shot of whiskey in hot cocoa. His tongue traced Lance’s lower lip, making him shiver.

Kissing Keith had never been part of his plan.

Lance pulled back, but Keith just shrugged, looking for all the world like a cat that’d been at the cream. He licked his lips.

“I wanted a taste,” he said.

Lance wasn’t sure what to make of that, but the hand on his cock and the lips that followed soon after gave him a new outlet for the awkward energy that Keith’s presence made him feel.

Keith, meanwhile, was shedding his jacket and his own shirt, grabbing it over his head and tugging it off effortlessly.

Jesus, he was cut.

He had nowhere near the pure muscle bulk of Shiro (not that Lance had ever really looked…well, come on, they’d all looked. Shiro was perfect.) but his chest seemed more defined because of it, the lean, tight muscles made for swift strikes. It certainly helped that Keith spent his free time training, always training, either in the gym or against the sim.

Lance did his fair share, but, damn. Maybe he should be hitting the gym more often.

Then his hands moved to his own belt buckle, flicking it open, sliding down the zip even as Allura’s hand reached over.

…Oh. They were doing this together.

Lance averted his eyes when Keith was done, somehow feeling it was impolite to stare at another guy’s junk, but it was no less awkward to look to the corner, the ceiling, anywhere else in such an intimate moment. Finally he looked down to Allura, who had started splitting her time between the two of them. Despite what he’d thought just moments before, seeing her mouth on him, watching him tense and ease as the sensation carried through his body…

…Well, he was starting to understand the real-life appeal of a threesome.

But he couldn’t help being jealous, a little. Even if he felt himself getting a bit harder as Allura continued her work, lavishing Keith with her hands, her tongue, her breath.

Wait. He wasn’t…attracted to Keith, was he?

Out of habit he looked to Keith, who he found was staring straight back, eyes like lit embers.

He realized he was about to find out.

Lance wasn’t quite sure what possessed him, whether it was the total absurdity of the whole situation or the lingering feeling of lips on his; or maybe it was always there, ever since he saw the hotshot pilot across the crowded Garrison cafeteria, sitting alone. At the time Lance assumed Keith thought himself too good to spend time with the others, but now he knew Keith was first and foremost a private person, who cared deeply for his friends but very little for casual acquaintanceship. Keith, who’d even given up his own Lion to pursue his truth, even when it had cost him so much. Whose tempestuous yet devoted shoes Lance had stepped up to fill.

Keith, who was always on his mind, even when Lance would rather think of anyone, anything else.

But this time, when Keith kissed him, Lance let him.

And when he kissed him again, with purpose, Lance tentatively kissed back.

It would never be like kissing Allura, Lance reasoned. And what else did he expect? He wasn’t sure he liked it, but it was clear that Keith had done this before. Was he just that good at everything?

But Keith had moved on, moved in, closing the distance to get better access. He kissed Lance’s throat, nipping his jaw, his collarbones, any part of him that protruded too far. This new, raw energy at his neck while Allura took care of him below was a lot to figure out, building sensation that flowed from both upper and lower parts of his core. It wasn’t that he could no longer think. He had thoughts, but they were like schools of jellyfish, translucent and tough to catch, and possibly dangerous.

But even those went out of his head as Keith kissed down, lower, and Lance realized what was happening only just before Keith’s mouth joined Allura’s.

And in what seemed like no time at all, Lance came, hard; into whose mouth, he couldn’t say, but the lips on him, the two heads of hair on which he braced himself, one black and one off-white, belonging to two people he did care for, in their own ways, but not like this—oh, it overtook him.

As he stood dazed, they licked him clean.

And then started on each other.

 

* * *

 

The last time Keith felt such a wild, jumbled rush of adrenaline was when they’d been escaping from the Garrison medbay, the five of them screaming on that speeder, thrown together for a purpose none of them had even yet caught glimpse of. But they’d been working together towards something, shouting and snapping and engineering success out of a prayer and some rocket fuel.

This rush, in many ways, felt much more dangerous than nose-dives down cliff faces.

There was so much more at stake.

Keith hadn’t figured out the whole of it, at the beginning. All he’d worked out was what he’d been told: Lance and Allura had been sleeping together, with Lance the more invested party. Well, no surprises there; Lance had been invested in Allura since the moment he caught her in his arms.

But Lance’s constant posturing and pickup lines had always given Keith the impression of a playboy, a flirt. It’d never occurred to Keith that maybe his bro-coded behavior hid a more sensitive heart.

It became clear, as soon as Keith turned his attention to Allura, finally feeling her lips on his, passionate, her hands in his lap encouraging his already stiff erection, that maybe Lance really wasn’t the freewheeling bisexual he’d envisioned him to be.

He pulled away from Allura, looking for Lance and wondering at the absence, when he saw putting on his jeans a few feet away. He and Allura shared a look, and Keith pushed himself up.

“Lance?”

“I…was just thinking,” Lance said, not meeting Keith’s eyes, “well, maybe it’s better if you two continue doing your own thing, y’know?”

Allura moved behind him, but Keith put out a hand. He didn’t mean any offense, but he had the sinking feeling it was his suggestion that got them into this mess, even if Allura had been on board.

“Lance,” Keith started, but Lance had the rest of his clothes in one hand and grabbed his shoes up off the floor, looking anywhere but at Keith.

“I’ll, uh, see you guys,” he said, and slipped out before Keith could catch him.

Leaving a very cold vacuum in the room.

“Shit,” he said, and heard Allura get up after. Something had gone wrong, here.

“This is my fault,” she said, biting her lip. She bent down to search for her dress, and though his body was screaming at him not to stop, to experience that which was always just out of reach, he sighed and pulled on his own clothes. Closure, and release, would have to wait.

“What was going on between you two?” He asked, jerking his head toward the door. “Before all this.”

“Well, sex, I thought,” she said. “I told him that I didn’t want a relationship, and he called it a hookup?”

“And he was on board?”

She tugged the dress up, hurry and frustration making it un-elegant, sloppy. He’d never seen her undone like this, human in the fallible sense of the word. It was comforting. Even their fearless, unflappable leader seemed to have her insecurities and frustrations.

“Well,” Allura said between tugs, “perhaps not as much as I thought.”

“Or maybe as _he_ thought,” Keith said, thinking back to how this particular interaction had started, how Lance had leaned in so hard, when maybe he was trying to just keep his cool, protect himself.

Damn that bleeding heart of his, the boy was too sensitive for his own good.

“We’ve got to make this right.”

“I know,” Allura said, plaiting her hair to decency. She took a step to him and swept her fingers across his bangs, neatening his own ruffled hair.

He caught her hand in his.

And kissed her.

He was allowed that much, right?

She leaned into him, acknowledging, holding this one last moment.

Her rueful smile, a little sultry even in the stress of the moment, said everything.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and he nodded.

“So am I.”

“Let’s go find Lance.”

 

* * *

 

Wednesdays were for experimenting.

She and Hunk had made it a priority to have some regularity in their relationships, and establish some habits. They had two-week check-ins, Sunday brunches, and Thursday movie nights, when they could. Pidge still felt weird about keeping to the seven-day Earth week, and though she and Hunk had spent about two weeks developing a new calendar, they’d abandoned it once they realized it might be too much for the others to learn. And even though they didn’t need weekdays anymore, per se, it was nice to have a way to mark the time.

It’d been Pidge’s turn to come up with an idea, and though she’d gone back and forth about this one for days, feeling out her own comfort level, she couldn’t quite let go of the fantasy her mind played out. Their play the other day had clinched it for her, that they could have fun, and that she’d be totally safe.

So she’d proposed it, as they sat cross-legged on the bed, by sliding the box over to him across the sheets. The fact that he’d blushed, too, as he examined the contents made her feel much more comfortable.

“I didn’t expect you to be this kind of kinky.”

“Right?” She said, pushing up her glasses, “but I feel like, well, it’s a standard?”

He pulled the handcuffs from the box, examining them. “Are these from the brig?”

“I mean, it’s not like we can just order them.”

“Yeah, but…they don’t seem that comfortable.”

“Well, you aren’t gonna be the ones wearing them, so.”

He looked up at her, his head-tilt adorable. She grinned.

“Not at first, anyway. You ready to give these bad boys a shot?”

“Only if you are,” he said, holding them out to her, but she put out a hand for him to wait and stripped off her shirt, one that he’d bought and she’d stolen almost immediately. “Anything else I should know?”

“Um, I don’t want to be hit? I know we’ve talked about that before, but I didn’t want you to think it comes with the territory,”she said, her exposed nipples growing hard. Hunk overheated unless the fan and air were on, and though it’d get better once they were moving, it was a bit chilly to just sit half-naked.

Her panties she kept on, as watching him remove them was one of her favorite things.

“Like, some light spanking is okay, but don’t overdo it? And NO tickling.”

“No tickling, got it.” He paused. “Do we need a safe word?”

“Nah, we’re not, I mean, I don’t want to role play?” She said, offering a hand out to him. He clicked one around her wrist, and it suctioned closed with a satsifying poof.

Then his eyes widened.

“Do you know how to open these?”

“They’re coded to all of our thumbprints,” she said, placing her other thumb on it. “You have to be alive, and hold it in place for ten seconds.”

After a few moments it popped open, and she closed it again, holding it out to him. “You try.”

When he’d opened it to his satisfaction, he looked around. “So, am I supposed to tie you to something?”

She grinned, slipping her glasses off and setting them aside. She crawled past him, knowing the view and the feel of her so close would start his engines. “Hand them to me?”

She slid one cuff down between the mattress and the headboard, finding the myriad hooks that kept the bed in place during any turbulence. She slid it under and through, pulling both ends to test the hold. It seemed stable enough, though it might snap the hook if she did any real pulling.

And if she did, she’d apologize to Allura later.

Or just re-fabricate the hook.

Maybe she could engineer a better setup, if they found they liked this kind of play?

A hand on her hip startled her out of her thoughts, and before she knew it she’d been pushed onto her back, her hands clapped into the cuffs.

“Sorry, I couldn’t wait,” he said, his voice not contrite in the least.

She’d fallen for his sweetness, but damn, did she love his spice.

His eyes softened a bit as he traced his hand down her side. “You ready?”

She nodded, but his hand didn’t stop tracing her curves, light, so light. Not enough to tickle, but plenty enough to tease.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes,” she said, as his fingers slid from her side to her stomach, the same light touch combining with the air to give her goosebumps. Reflexively she pulled her arms in and found them restrained, which made her shiver as she met his playfully predatory eyes.

Oh, she was going to enjoy this.

“Say the magic words.”

“Yes, please,” she said, and he moved until he was fully on the bed, kneeling between her legs, observing. She didn’t consider herself a prude, nor an exhibitionist, but somewhere in the middle; confident enough in her body but socially conditioned to acknowledge her flaws. And though she’d adopted baggier clothes for her disguise, she’d come to find security in them, how they didn’t immediately reveal her gender. Which hadn’t been as big a deal in space, as alien physiologies influenced their respective cultures in ways that had nothing to do with the Earth understanding of the gender binary, but she found some expedience when working with her fellow paladins, when they saw her as a teammate first and girl second.

But now, naked and immobile under his gaze, she felt vulnerable, scrutinized. He could take his time taking her all in and it was at his discretion, a one-sided view. She shifted her hips, finally looking away under his gaze.

He leaned in, one hand guiding her chin back, and kissed her. It was sweet, chaste. And when he pulled away, he leaned past to whisper in her ear.

“Katie, you’re beautiful.”

It was exactly what she needed to hear, even if it didn’t fit with the theme of the evening. She turned to kiss him again and he responded, ready, so good at reading her needs. They spent a few moments in this shared, sweet space, coming apart only as the hand that had rested on her chin slid down across her collarbone to her breast, cupping it, his thumb slipping over her nipple.

She squeaked into his mouth.

He kept kissing her as his hand moved, using the callouses on his fingertips against her soft skin. Pidge squirmed, but he didn’t seem inclined to move on.

It was torture, and she loved it.

He rolled it between his fingers, not with any pressure, just seeming to enjoy the feel. She bit her lip and glared at him, but he wasn’t paying any attention to her expression, his eyes closed, though he did take her lower lip lightly in his teeth.

Light, everything was so light for him, when all she wanted was for him to take her and fuck her senseless.

And, goddamn him, he knew it.

So she did what she could.

She got a grasp on his lip instead, biting a little harder than was maybe necessary, and he growled a warning into her. _Fuck that_ , she thought, and bent her knees, sliding her legs against his, trying to make a landing strip to where she really wanted attention.

He retrieved his lip from her and kissed her cheek, her earlobe.

“Nice try,” he said, and pulled back.

This time he saw her angry, pleading glare, took it in, and zen-like turned his attention away. He slid his hands up over her hips, her knees, pressing them back into her, until she was a little ball.

And then, with a few deft moves, he flipped her over.

 _Huh_ , she thought, not sure that’s where she would have gone with it, but was game all the same. Now she wasn’t able to see him, unless she really craned her neck. She had to trust that he was back there, and would be able to see to her pleasure…without her being able to do a single thing about it.

He got up off the bed, and though she was immediately nervous, the rustling of cloth in the background and his little noises told her he was disrobing, too. It had been an interesting dynamic, him fully clothed and her completely naked, but she really preferred them to both, in this respect, be on equal footing. When both partners were equally undressed, there was a better connection, born from touch and vulnerability. It had certainly allowed her and Hunk to lower their barriers, to communicate with honesty and empathy.

Besides, she loved the feel of his skin, the hair on his chest and the back of his arms, the feel of his heartbeat when she put her hand on his chest. His weirdly large nipples. He wouldn’t be Hunk if he were any different, and if he wasn’t Hunk, he wouldn’t be hers.

So when he sat back down, to her side this time, she reveled in the feel of his thigh against hers, knowing he was bare and probably very erect behind her.

Good. They should both be suffering.

He put a hand at the nape of her neck, trailing his first two fingers down her spine to the base of her ass, her final vertebrae. He seemed to be feeling her out, watching her reaction. A small part of her wondered if he was about to give her a backrub, and if she hadn’t been so stuck and horny she wouldn’t’ve minded — she’d had to bank hard in their last sortie and had jammed her shoulder on the controls — but she didn’t have the patience for platonic touch right now.

She wanted him in her, as soon as possible.

But, no.

He was determined.

He placed a hand to her side, folding over to bury his nose in her hair, kissing the back of her ear, nibbling her earlobe. His lips burrowed in, finding the skin on her neck, kissing her across her shoulders to her back, where he knew she was sensitive.

She clutched the edge of mattress.

His lips, the light moisture of his breath, his tongue, sent tingles rippling through her body. She bucked against him, but he was unhurried, using his other hand to trace around her immobile shoulder, underneath her arm, down her ribs. He settled his hand there for a moment, pressing it into her, solid against her petite frame. He used it as leverage to make his way down and across her back, licking and nipping as he went. His lips traveled to her sides, her waist, back to her spine; but always down, down.

She felt like screaming by the time he finally reached her ass.

He kissed her at the very base, the skin there just as sensitive as it was through her shoulder blades, his hands on her hips. He worked his fingertips under her hipbones, gripping them against the mattress as he kissed her cheeks, biting the flesh there, pulling her into him. 

“I think I hate you,” she mumbled against the bed, pulling against her restraints as he kissed the crease where her ass met her thighs, burying his face in her muscle.

He said nothing.

But his hand slipped around her thigh, and, without warning, slipped between her legs, his finger going straight into her.

Instead of screaming, she moaned into the mattress, as he thrust in and out of her.

Slow, steady, and unrelenting.

He let his knuckles bump her as he moved, every thrust or every other grazing her clit in a way that was utterly unsatisfying. He hadn’t let up with his mouth, either, though the kisses and nips had grown more intense. She wondered if he was leaving marks; it made her excited to look in the mirror the next morning. She hoped she was still flexible enough to see.

They’d been doing this long enough that he knew when she was close, by the way she bucked her hips and cursed him under her breath. But he was determined to draw it out for her, make it as slow and excruciating as possible. After all, she’d put herself totally at his mercy. What else had she expected him to do?

Instead of letting her finish, he slid his finger out, and unceremoniously wiped it on her ass before repositioning her. She had no more than a moment’s notice before he was between her legs, plunging in deep, and long, and all at once. She cried out, and he did it again, and again.

She’d thought somehow he’d been able to ignore his own feelings, dampen his needs in order to draw it out, but maybe he’d been enduring his own long, slow struggle. Maybe, by the time he entered her, he found himself unable to stop.

Maybe he needed her, and release.

And that was an incredible feeling.

She bucked her hips against him and strained at the cuffs, feeling totally tethered between the two forces, both immovable by anything she could think to do. And why would she try to break free, now that she was getting what she’d so desperately wanted?

She hoped he’d never stop.

“Hunk!!”

A sharp knock on the door drove their activities to a grinding halt. “Hunk, are you in there?”

“I, um…,” he started without thinking, but Pidge took all the frustration he’d built over the last hour and glared him into silence. Though he closed his mouth, his puppy-dog eyes worried at the tone in Lance’s voice.

“Please? I…really need to talk,” Lance said, stress evident through the door. “Let me in? I need to get out of the hall.”

_Out of the hall? Was he avoiding someone?_

Hunk took a step, and she realized that he was going to let him in.

He’d be coming in, and find her like this. There was no time to undo the cuffs.

 _“Are you insane?_ ” She whispered, gesturing at the cuffs. “ _Let me out and I’ll go.”_

“Give me a minute? I’m, um, naked,” Hunk projected.

“Dude, I’ve seen you naked a million times before. Please?” This last please was strained, a little broken, and Pidge knew with a sinking feeling that it was that tone that would break Hunk’s resolve. He leaned over her and kissed her cheek.

“ _I’m so sorry,_ ” he whispered, and pulled his fluffy comforter over her, hiding her under the plush folds. Good thing she was a featherweight, or her form would’ve been obvious. As it was, she could feel that her fingers stuck out the top, but it’d have to do. Hopefully Lance would be as oblivious as usual.

And hopefully what he needed to talk about wasn’t private.

Hunk thumped over to the door, which slid open and closed after a few light footfalls.

“Thanks,” Lance said. “Sorry, did I interrupt?”

Pidge didn’t hear a response from Hunk, but assumed he’d just shrugged. He’d let everyone walk all over him if it were left to him. But it brought him joy to be relied on and needed by his friends, even if it inconvenienced him. Even if it hurt him, as their offhand comments and jokes sometimes did. He was resilient, but enough flaky behavior and light disregard was enough to bring anyone down after a while.

“It’s just…you’re not gonna believe what just happened to me. Hell, I can’t even believe it.”

“Are you okay?”

“I…I dunno. I think so?”

Her pocket of air under the covers was stale and growing warmer, and she had an itch on her leg, but Pidge’s greatest discomfort was the realization that something had actually happened to Lance, something he really needed Hunk’s stability and level-headed reasoning to process, not to mention his unconditional, non-judgmental kindness, and his love for his friends. She’d turned to him often enough with her worries about her family. Hell, he’d even talked to Keith about his burdens, and getting Keith to open up about even his ice cream preferences was herculean effort for any of the rest of them.

She hoped Hunk could talk Lance through this.

“Do you wanna go outside?” Hunk offered.

“Out…? No, I don’t want to run into either of them.” _Either of who?_ “Can I sit down?”

Light footfalls signaled his approach to the bed.

“Ah, why don’t you take the chair? The bed’s dirty.”

“Dirty? There’s nothing on it.”

“Take my word for it.”

 _Hunk, don’t let him sit! Get him out of here! I shouldn’t be hearing this!_ Pidge screamed internally, but a floof announced that Lance had sat on the chair.

And the words that tumbled out of him next froze her to the core.

“I think I just had a threesome with Allura and Keith.”

“What?!”

_WHAT?!!!!!!_

“It just…happened, I mean, I know it did, I was there. But then I left,” he said, words falling into each other. “I found them together, I mean, not _together_ together, but he, the way he looked at her… but then, they wanted me to stay, and I thought it’d maybe be fun, like an experiment.”

At that, Pidge bit her lip. At least she and Hunk had talked through all their experiments, made sure they were both on the same page. It sounded like Lance had gotten in too deep too fast, and was reeling from emotions and possibly hormones he hadn’t been prepared for.

“And then, it was fine, I mean, I wasn’t…it was a little weird at first, with him right there, but we, and she, and then…”

Silence, and Pidge wished more than ever that she’d been able to plug her ears, to let him have this privacy when he was at his most vulnerable, when he desperately needed it.

But she’d heard every word, and she’d keep hearing it. She had to keep absolutely still, and let him leave none the wiser.

Shit, she could be there for hours. Hunk wouldn’t let that happen.

Right?

“Then?” He asked. She didn’t think he’d forgotten she was there, but it seemed that he was seeing to Lance’s needs first.

“Then Keith went down on me, and I think I liked it.”

Pidge had never worked so hard at anything in her life as she did to keep her lips sealed absolutely shut in that moment.

“Oh, that’s…big.”

“Yeah,” Lance sighed out, sounding almost as stunned as Hunk was by his confession. “I mean, I did like it, but…the whole thing was, y’know? I thought Allura and I had something special, but to see her want him…and for him to just go and do that when we haven’t even talked…”

“Yeah, that’s…that’s a lot, buddy.”

“I know.” A long pause, stilling Pidge’s heart as a twitch in her shoulder rustled the blanket, the echo from the slight sound thooming in her ears, “…I don’t know what to do, how to feel.”

Another long pause.

“Do you want advice? Or did you just need to talk it out?”

“I…both. What would you even do? What can anyone do? How’d I even get here?”

“Well…you got here because you thought you’d signed up for something fun, but it ended up being not what you expected, it sounds like.”

“Yeah…I mean, it was hot. It was good. I never thought that Keith would…but was he just doing that because he’d stolen Allura away?”

 _Stolen_? Pidge sighed internally. _That’s a dangerous phrasing, even if they had been exclusive, which Allura had said…well, wait, did she? She said it was a hookup, but didn’t say if it was exclusive._

_Had they really talked this through?_

“Lance, I don’t think you’re gonna like what I have to say, but…I think you need to talk to them. Both of them, separately.”

A pause.

“You’re right, I don’t like that.”

“I know, but, without talking, how are you going to know how they feel? More importantly, how are they gonna know what you feel?”

A pause.

“If you love Allura, you should just tell her.”

“Love? No, that’s…I mean, of course I love her, but it’s like I love you, or Pidge,” who winced, “or Shiro or anyone else in this castle.”

He sighed.

“I guess I just thought…I was special to her.”

“I think you are, buddy. You’re special to all of us.”

“Hah,” Lance’s laugh was more of a scoff, but there was a hint of appreciation in his voice.

“You are. You guys just need to talk it through.”

“I…okay. Thanks. Sorry for barging in.” Some shuffling, and Pidge sighed. They’d done it. Lance would leave without ever knowing she was there, and they could put this all behind them.

Or.

“I…sorry, I’ve been meaning to ask, and I appreciate that you’re helping me through this, but…are those panties on the floor.”

_Fuck._

“What?”

Shuffling.

“Oh, oh! Weird, those must have gotten mixed in my laundry.”

“Hunk…goddamn it, dude, what guy doesn’t notice panties on his floor? You’ve gotta get laid more.” Lance laughed. “Those are pretty lacy, tho. Pidge’s got good taste.”

She was flattered, but would also kill him for that someday.

“How do you know they’re Pidge’s?”

“Allura doesn’t wear any.”

“Whelp, time for you to go.” Hunk said. It was sweet that he was protective of her even when she “wasn’t there” (although, she supposed he knew she was), but she wished he’d been more pushy about it before Lance had spilled his secrets in front of a bigger audience than he’d meant to.

They confirmed that Allura and Keith weren’t in the hall before Lance slipped out, and Pidge heard the door whoosh shut and the familiar beep of the lock before he thudded over and pulled the covers down.

“Katie, I’m so, so sorry. Are you okay?”

The deep worry, plain on his face, erased her irritation. She knew he couldn’t not help a friend in need, as much as she couldn’t help her deep need for privacy. It had been killing him to know she was suffering while Lance was, too, but he probably knew she could handle it.

But she couldn’t handle feeling constrained any longer.

“Get me out of these, please.”

He rammed his knuckles into the headboard as he pushed his thumbs to the cuffs, and in ten long seconds, they opened. She pulled her hands back, gingerly, the strain set in from holding the unusual position for so long, and he helped her up to sitting before wrapping her in a bear hug.

“I’m…I’m okay, Hunk, really,” she mumbled into his arm, but he held her, kissing her forehead. She needed this too, even if she was okay. As much fun as the idea of being tied up was, the reality had made her feel trapped, and had ultimately violated her friend’s privacy.

“I shouldn’t have heard that.”

“I’m sure Lance’ll understand.”

“I know, but…,” he squeezed her tighter, and she sighed.

“These things happen. And once this all blows over, he’d think it’s hilarious.”

“Too soon,” she said, holding her wrists. They’d established early on that it was okay to be blunt, if it was understanding—Hunk had taken Pidge’s directness personally, and he’d danced around an issue so long it’d driven her mad. The compromise was the result of their first real argument, but it had saved them countless others.

He released her just enough to kiss her lips.

“Sorry.”

“Is’ok,” she mumbled. He kissed her again, this time a little less chaste, keeping her lips in his. She put her hands to his face, his cheeks filling her palms, and pulled him back.

“No handcuffs this time,” she said, and he nodded. “Are you sure the door’s locked?”

Another nod.

“And you’ll let me leave before anyone else comes in?”

“I’m not letting anyone else in until you leave, thoroughly satisfied.”

“I like the sound of that.” She turned to climb into his lap, and he scooted back just enough that he was sitting fully on the bed.

She slid onto him with little fanfare, needing just the raw sensation with his arms around her, holding her to him. Despite all that happened she found she was still primed, close, and she came hard into him, with him finishing not long after. She suspected he’d held off a little until she was there, and again, she appreciated how caring he was, ever cognizant of the needs of those around him.

She hoped to anyone who would listen that it wouldn’t get him killed someday.

They caught their breath, and she lingered a moment longer than usual before getting up to pee. She cleaned herself up in the bathroom, washing her face, and rubbing at her wrists, still red from the friction. She was glad she’d tried it, but…well, in the future, she’d be using fake ones. Or none at all.

When she got back Hunk was gone, but she slid into his bed, not wanting to be on her own after all that. She thought back on what she’d heard, and was almost glad she couldn’t talk to any of them about it. She had her thoughts, but…this was something the three of them would have to navigate on their own. She just hoped Lance would come out of this okay. He’d been a good friend, embracing her playful side, bickering like she would have with Matt. Matt would have— _would_ —like him. She could see them trying to pick up chicks, or, well, anyone in Matt’s case, and it sounded like Lance’s, too. Though hopefully Lance had a more refined palate.

Hunk came back with a hot purple drink that he’d engineered to taste close enough to a hot cider, and she fell asleep in the crook of his arm as they watched an old Altean film.

 

* * *

 

No one came to dinner that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowee, how was that, folks? Hang in there, things will get better for our fine pala-friends. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and as always, Kudos, Subscriptions, Comments, and especially sharing All Cats with your friends are the best compliments you could give!
> 
> Of course, things have to get a little worse before they get better...but hey, at least there'll be some good, good sex while they do. See you next week!


	5. The Lion's Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Allura have a parting of the ways; the Red Lion lets Keith in, and so does Lance; Allura gets a verbal lashing from Keith and finds comfort in Shiro’s arms; Shiro has an experience that was better than he bargained for; Pidge keeps one secret, but spills another; the team is told to leave it all on the Castle and bring only their best into space.

* * *

 

Lance paced in his room, long legs making quick work of the space. Hunk was right, as he usually was—he did need to just talk it out with Keith and Allura. But the idea of facing either of them, let alone both, was overwhelming. He couldn’t get the image of Allura kissing Keith out of his head, her slender hands on Keith’s fine-cut jaw, in his godawful mullet, bringing him closer to her… _fuck_. He’d thought he was okay just being a hookup, but to see her so quickly have interest in another, right in front of him…it’d been fucking murder.

And of all people, did it have to be Keith?

Keith, always fucking one-upping him at every turn. At piloting, at fighting, and now, with women… And they’d been getting so close, forming a friendship, becoming comrades.

Maybe they’d gotten too close.

That was the other image that he couldn’t shake, bizarre, like a fever dream. Keith’s lips on his dick, taking him into his mouth. Their intimate kiss, treated so casually.

Lance still wasn’t sure he could parse it.

Was Keith interested? Or was it just part of the play? Would someone like Keith ever go down on him? But, he had? Keith, the one he always fought with, the one he admired as much as envied, though it’d be like pulling teeth to ever get him to admit it.

Keith’s eyes had been on him, and there’d been need there.

But what kind?

Lance threw himself on his bed, falling on his shoulder to avoid hitting what, in his mind, might be his most confusing boner ever…and he’d had a few. He rolled onto his back and gazed up at the ceiling for the third time in an hour.

Why was he so upset?

Because Allura had wanted to have sex with Keith.

Keith, _too_.

Well, yes. But she wanted to have sex with other people, in general.

And he’d agreed.

Not so much agreed, as…respected her wishes?

Did that mean he didn’t have to agree?

But if he didn’t agree, would their relationship, such as it was, end?

Would all of this end with him looking on with a broken heart as she made her way through anyone she wanted, knowing that she had one been his?

No, she had never been his.

But they’d had something.

Was that suddenly negated?

“Arrgh!!” He yelled, springing up. There was no point in trying to navigate this on his own. He had no idea how he felt, no clue what he wanted.

He needed to hear it from her.

He sidled up to his door and put his ear to it, listening for footsteps in the hall. When there were none, he trotted out and made his way through side-halls and shadows to the Altean quarters.

And knocked on her door.

“Who is it?”

_Fuck_ , he thought, wincing. Just hearing her perfect voice hurt. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe with a little more time…

No, he was here. Better to do it now…for his sanity, and for their next mission. They needed to resolve this, somehow.

“It’s Lance.”

“Lance!” Hurried footfalls, and then the door opened. There she stood, barefoot, her dress unrumpled—so, she’d changed. Good, they both needed a fresh start.

“I, um…,” he fumbled. He hated these moments, not so much for the vulnerability, but because he knew it that he was asking a friend to hurt for a while as they sorted out their emotional bruises. “I think we need to talk.”

“Y-yes,” she agreed, eyes lowered. “Come in.”

What had once been a comforting room, a window into Allura, now felt a little alien; like a forest that, picturesque by day, became otherworldly at night. Who else had been here? And what was it to him if they had?

“We looked for you, after…you left,” she said, as she gestured him to a low plush chair. “You weren’t in any of your usual spaces, and when I asked Hunk, he said he hadn’t seen you.”

_Bless Hunk_ , Lance thought, not for the first time. That paladin was a better friend than any of them deserved.

“So I came back here, to wait. I just…I didn’t want you to think we…,” she said, sitting across from him on a matching plush pouf, “well, that we kept going without you.”

“You didn’t?” The look on his face must’ve been harsh, as he watched her eyes open wide in response. He hadn’t heard them come out of Keith’s room when he’d been in Hunk’s, but then, he’d been preoccupied with spilling his emotional guts all over Hunk’s room.

“Of course not,” Allura said, clasping her hands. “Lance, I’m so sorry.”

That wasn’t exactly what he’d expected her to lead with.

“You’re…sorry?”

“Yes. We should have talked about all this long before—what you’re okay with, what you aren’t. Keith and I realized—”

“Oh, ‘Keith and I’? What, are you an item now?”

“What? No, we were just the other two involved,” Allura said, holding out a hand. Lance didn’t take it. What was she expecting, to shake and make up? Better not to touch her, not to feel her soft hand in his. Where, in his mind, it belonged. She curled her fingers into her palm, set it back on her lap. “We…just should have talked about what we really wanted.”

“And what do you want, exactly? Keith?” He tried to pause, but the next words, his fear, spilled out anyway.

“Am I not enough for you?”

The irritation in her furrowed brow and crossed arms was enough to confirm, in his eyes, that he’d been right. 

“It was never a question of ‘enough,’ Lance,” she said, after letting out a deep breath. A steady beep from somewhere in the ship kept time with his heartbeat, grating, persistent. She didn’t seem to notice. “For me, sex is stress relief. When you came to my door a few nights ago, I thought that’s what you were looking for, too.”

Could someone shut off that damn beep? It was interfering with him hearing his heart shattering. “Are you telling me I was just convenient?”

Her pause seemed awfully telling to him.

“That’s not fair,” she said at last, eyes hard under her long lashes. “You came on to me, and I accepted. Had I known that you were going to develop feelings…”

“What, you wouldn’t have slept with me?”

“I would have handled things differently,” she snapped, then sighed. “I’m sorry, Lance, I just thought that we were on the same page…”

“Of what, just sleeping with whoever offers?”

“Of whoever we like,” she clarified, and held out her hand again, but he just stared at it, at her, keeping his own hands tightly clasped. He didn’t want her pity, or her empathy. He just wanted to feel like he was more than just a breathing dildo.

She let her hand hang for just a moment, between them.

Then she withdrew.

“Lance…I don’t know if I can ever be this person you want me to be,” she said, smoothing her dress over her knees.

“And who is that?”

She met his eyes, hers glittering seafoam bright in the low light of her room.

“Someone who loves only you.”

He sat, processing. Was that what he wanted? Allura, by his side?

Wait.

Wait, wait.

“ _Only_ me? Are you saying you love me?”

So much hung on her answer.

“Oh, Lance.”

The way she said his voice had always entranced him. The long drawl on the ‘a,’ the way he knew just how she felt about him in each minute within the first syllable.

But this time, it was almost swallowed in her exhale. She studied him, holding her hands together, as though the touch strengthened her. He’d seen her look this way when they’d been performing well as paladins, when they were so close to victory. Things had been so simple before this, before he’d thought too hard with his dick. She’d been their leader, and a fellow paladin. She’d taught them so much. And he respected her, loved her.

Didn’t she feel the same?

“I do, of course. But…”

“But?”

“But I love you all, the paladins. We share a connection that is special, and I appreciate you for who you are.”

Hope, dashed.

He’d heard enough.

“Oh, great. Who’s next then, Pidge?”

“Lance, that’s not…”

He’d been a fool to come.

“It is though, isn’t it? You’d be with Keith if he’d come knocking first.”

“I’m not ‘with’ anyone.”

She’d been clear with him, he’d give her that. But if he’d known she really wasn’t interested in more than just his body, would he have approached her that first night?

“So what, I’m just the easy lay?”

“You aren’t listening.”

“Then what is it?”

They’d both come to standing, in the sphere of each other’s personal space without touching, their breath hot in the air between them. Part of him still wanted to reach out and run his hand through her hair, to pull her into a kiss, to take her again on her bed and work out their issues through the sheets.

But he couldn’t take another blow to his heart, not like that.

“Lance, I care for you, I do. But we’re in the middle of a war, and my feelings, whatever they are, whatever they might be—they don’t matter, not until the Galra Empire falls. I was trying to make sure you didn’t get caught up in that, but…you’re who you are, and you can’t help how you feel.

“And that’s what makes you special, but…”

She faltered.

“But what, Allura?” He wanted to believe those words, that he was special, but how could he, when she was also telling him they had no future until the war was won, and perhaps not even then.

She met his gaze again, searching his expression, but said nothing more. And what could she say? What they wanted was different, and there wasn’t any getting around it.

So, fine. He’d let her go, and deal with it when she found comfort in Keith, Shiro. Pidge. Hunk. Whoever the hell she felt like. What was it to him?

“I think it’s better if…we’re just friends,” Lance said, finally, hands shaking. Though honestly, even that would be a struggle. How could he be friends with someone he’d been so intimate with, who he’d wanted to lie naked with, laughing about nothing? Who he’d do anything for, if only she’d let him?

What else was he supposed to do, renounce his Lion because he’d gotten hurt?

He hoped it didn’t come to that.

“Perhaps…yes,” Allura said, eyes downcast. She wouldn’t even look at him? How could she agree so easily?

“But…”

He didn’t want to hear it. He was done.

“Great, yeah. Good. See you around.” He strode out of the room, keeping his eyes straight ahead. She didn’t call to him.

Would he have gone back if she had?

He kept striding forward, letting the momentum take him through the halls, aimless, his feet taking him wherever they would.

Which, naturally, brought him to the Lion’s hangar.

He passed Blue, wanting to stop, but knowing that while he’d had something special before, he was connected to another now. Would that happen with Allura, too? Would he, could he reach the point where he’d allow those feelings to pass, to see that it was better with someone else?

He kept his gaze ahead of him.

When he got to Red, the Lion’s mouth was already open. He tromped up the stairs, his footsteps echoing, the clanking thumps satisfying in the way only being abjectly rude could when he felt low. He threw himself into the pilot’s chair, and buried his head in his hands.

He didn’t want to be friends. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be in love, either, but he sure as hell hadn’t wanted this awful separation.

But it was for the best, right? To protect his feelings.

He sat in silence for a long while, it seemed; in the dark, too, his palms keeping out the light. He didn’t want to be seen, like this, and like a child he thought that maybe, if he kept out everything, everything would forget he existed, even for a few blessed moments.

But life wasn’t about to let him have his peace.

Footsteps echoed through the hangar, and Lance looked up to see Keith approaching the Red Lion.

“Red, shields down,” Keith said.

Red complied.

“What? No, no, shields u—” Lance said, but felt that familiar twing in his heart, the telepathic melody the Lions used to communicate, resonate with their paladins.

Red was right, and Lance knew it.

“I…ugh, fine. Let him in.”

Red lowered the drawbridge, and Keith came aboard.

 

* * *

 

Lance was a fucking wreck.

If he hadn’t cried, he needed to; his eyes were red, raw. Tired. He did his best not to look at Keith even as he peered around the seat, glancing past him as Keith entered the once-familiar cockpit.

“What do you want,” he said, the words mumbled low; defensive, but without malice. If Lance had really wanted privacy, Red wouldn’t have let Keith in, no matter how insistent he’d been. Red could be temperamental, but only because sometimes it knew what its paladin needed before the paladin himself.

“Just…to talk.”

At that, Lance put his head back between his hands. Keith walked around front, but Lance didn’t move.

“Yeah, go ahead. Talk away.”

Okay, it was worse than he thought. Allura had seemed fine, if tired, when he’d caught her in the hall. She’d told him that things hadn’t gone well in their conversation, that Lance was probably hurting. Boy, was that an understatement.

He’d never seen the guy more beaten, and he’d seen him torn apart by both weapons and words. He wished he’d asked her exactly what happened, but it was too late to back out now. He was here, and not any sort of diplomat.

This was going to go poorly, but it would go nonetheless.

“What’s going on between you and Allura?”

“Hah,” Lance sighed, balling his hands into fists and dropping them between his knees. “Nothing, anymore.”

“But you were sleeping together.”

“Look, what’s it to you?” Lance said, voice cracking. Keith leaned back on the dashboard, arms crossed.

“I’m just trying to figure out what happened.”

“What happened?” At that, Lance looked up. He was in tears, though he didn’t seem to notice. “What happened? Yeah, I’ll tell you. What happened…”

At this he choked, and rubbed a tear out of his eye, glaring up at Keith. “Fuck, I don’t know. I thought she liked me and suddenly you’re involved. And you…”

“What?”

“You just…you just take what you want, you come in there and pick up Allura, just as easily as you’ve ever done anything I’ve wanted to do. Better and in half the time,” Lance said, the words not as bitter as Keith had expected, “and then you did all that so I wouldn’t be pissed, but, well, here we are.”

He looked away again and swiped at his face, but his jumbled version of events was telling. He was confused, and hurt; and sure, pissed, too, but that seemed more a symptom of his other feelings.

Keith could work with confused.

He let down his guard, bringing his hands to rest on the dash, the feeling of Red comforting under his palms, even if he wasn’t in the pilot’s seat. He knew how it felt to have emotions take control, so complex and tangled that they seemed impossible to work through. He always wanted to outrun them, but finding the link to his past in the Blades had given him the courage to confront them. He had something to work for, toward; an anchor for those unruly feelings.

He just had to find Lance’s anchor, tether him to something.

“Lance, do you think I went down on you just to throw you a bone?”

“What else am I supposed to think?”

A loaded question.

Keith was close enough to see the few freckles against Lance’s already brown skin, little treasures dusting his nose. Close enough to smell his sweat, close enough to notice his scent gave Keith a little thrill. Here in the pilot’s chamber, there was barely a person’s worth of space between them, no room to run from the conflict at hand.

Not conflict, confusion.

Whatever Allura had done, said…whatever a stateswoman she may be, she was apparently fucking terrible at empathy on a personal level. That, or she didn’t see Lance for who he was, a guy who wore his heart on his sleeve, who lived and died for those he cared about. Who would do anything, even if it denied him his dreams, if it would help his friends achieve their dreams.

A guy like that—all he needed to know was that his sacrifice, his deep care wasn’t in vain. To know that he was appreciated, that he was loved.

That he was special, because he was.

“Lance, I don’t have time to waste on things I’m not interested in.”

“…What?”

There, that face, innocent confusion without pretense. Lance had never been great at creating personal barriers, seemingly preferring to go with the flow and let the current take him through life.

Which made this flimsy one he’d thrown up decidedly easy to take down.

“You heard me,” he said, pushing off the console, stepping into Lance’s space. He may be an awful communicator, but he knew Lance. And he knew how to press his buttons, how to get under his skin.

How to disarm him.

“I want you,” he said, and kissed him hard, pressing him back against his seat.

He just hoped it’d be enough to get through to him.

Lance mmphed into his lips, bringing his hands to Keith’s chest, though as they grabbed Keith’s shirt he couldn’t tell if it was to push him away or bring him in closer. Lance himself didn’t seem sure, so Keith pressed on, running a hand through Lance’s hair and giving it a good yank.

Oh, that did something.

Lance pulled him in as he pushed forward, entering Keith’s space, not content to be pushed back. He’d become an active participant, realizing his agency. He pulled Keith onto him, settling him on his knees as he went on the offensive, his kisses like punches, swift jabs.

Good, let him work through this. Keith could take anything Lance threw at him.

He certainly wanted to, anyway.

It hadn’t been until the sleep magic that he’d put a finger on this tension between them, why Lance could provoke him so easily, even after he’d cultivated such control. Why Lance’s frustrated pout made him smile, why their hard-won moments of comradely had meant so much to him.

He wanted Lance, like this, and hadn’t thought it was ever possible.

He wasn’t about to let this chance go to waste.

Lance growled and snuck under Keith’s chin, nipping Keith’s jaw, his Adam’s apple. It felt feral, like a wolf, baiting his Alpha, spoiling for a fight.

Keith knew how to play this game.

He quickly shed his jacket and his shirt, sliding it up between them before throwing it across the cockpit. Lance was already scrabbling at Keith’s leggings, tugging them down enough to release his rock-hard cock.

His shit-eating smirk spoke volumes, but before he could say anything snarky, Keith stood and pressed himself against Lance’s lips, a challenge.

Their eyes met, glares leveled across that tight space.

And Lance, unwavering, took him in.

It was Keith who had to break the stare first, eyes closing as he stifled his moan, not wanting to let Lance know how much he’d gotten to him. He wasn’t sure how much cock Lance’d sucked in his life, but he sure knew his way around one, mouth and tongue and hands working in tandem to bring Keith closer than he bargained for.

He couldn’t let it end like this.

He pulled out and recaptured Lance’s lips, pushing his hoodie off his shoulders, and Lance did the rest; ripping his shirt off after. Keith struggled with the button of Lance’s jeans until Lance smacked his hands away and did it himself, undoing it all and sliding them down almost in one fluid motion. It was that ease that made him seem like a player, like someone to whom sex was second nature. He’d fooled Allura and Keith, though they both should have known better than to assume.

Fuck, they all should have known better, but here they were.

They took that awkward moment to remove the rest of their clothes, Keith kicking off his boots and stripping off his leggings as Lance shed his jeans, neither looking at the other but intimately conscious of each other as they moved. Keith could just see Lance’s shoulders, built almost like a swimmer, round and muscled from how many months of carrying his gun bayard, of training in gymnastics, ofs sparring against him. How many times had they locked eyes as they fought, keyed up and conscious of how the other moved, looked? Looking back, it was obvious: their blows had been a physical connection, a conversation.

A prelude to this.

Keith put a knee on the pilot’s chair, leaning into Lance with a kiss that spoke of passion, of war and sex and the brotherhood born from both. Lance met him there, one hand on Keith’s lower back, bringing him in until their cocks touched, the soft skin sending lightning through Keith. Lance wrapped his hand around them both, long fingers somehow managing the girth, stroking with purpose. Keith thrust, a little, but the unlubricated skin caught in the friction, so he spit into his hand and rubbed it over them both. He’d noticed earlier, but Lance was a good size—too big for Keith, even if he’d been into that sort of thing. He wondered how Allura’d managed.

No, he banished thoughts of her. She wasn’t important right now.

What was important was the deep blue of the eyes staring into his as they came apart, and the trust therein, budding despite the hurt.

“Can I go down on you again?” Keith asked, as he moved against Lance’s hand.

“I…do you have to ask?”

“Yes,” Keith said. He kissed Lance again, deep, the confrontation from before long since melted away. “I want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“Keith…,” he said, eyes softening. He was returning to the Lance they all knew, who thought with his heart first and was, ultimately, the better for it. “Is that what you want?”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise,” he said, kissing just behind Lance’s jaw, by his ear, making sure he heard every word, “but I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it.”

Lance pressed his cheek to Keith’s, his low, shuddered breaths tickling his ear as they brushed through the hair on his neck.

“O-okay, yeah.”

Keith tried to back up to find space, but Lance’s arms kept him close, so he trailed his way down Lance’s body instead. He had to remember to be careful, to take it slow. This wasn’t like sex with Shiro, where he could move to what he wanted and expect to be met in return, both parties steamrolling toward passion and release. Lance, no matter what his past, needed guidance, maybe even instruction. It was like he’d managed to have sex without ever figuring out what he liked, even if his body desperately wanted to guide him towards it. Like he’d been too concerned with trying to please his partner as best he knew, without ever figuring out what he himself wanted.

He needed to learn to be a little selfish.

When Keith finally made it to his knees, he took a little time to explore Lance’s hips and thighs with his tongue, letting the anticipation build, goading it with an occasional ‘accidental’ brush of his cheek, his nose. It wasn’t until Lance reached out on his own volition, putting his hand on Keith’s head and running his fingers through Keith’s hair, that Keith finally took him in.

_See?_ He wanted to say. _See what happens when you take charge? Own your desires._

Instead, he just closed his lips and pulled back.

“Ah, fuck.”

“Too hard?”

“N-no, it was…good.”

Lance’s flushed face, eyes heavy-lidded and lower lip caught in his teeth—that tableau was worth every moment of pacing himself, keeping his own needs to himself.

He continued back to his work, taking it slow; lavishing the shaft with his tongue, coating it, sliding his hands up and over. He wasn’t building towards anything, yet, just adjusting Lance to the sensation, getting him comfortable. He took him in his mouth again, bobbing up and down just on the tip, knowing how sensitive it would be, how tempting.

But Lance was a quick study.

He pushed Keith’s head down, making him taking him in deeper. Keith glared up to see a smirk under those heavy-lidded eyes. Keith had invited him to play, and Lance had stepped up to the plate.

Could he blame him?

Keith wasn’t one to back down from a little challenge. He closed his lips tight, dragging them up, then all the way back down, knowing the friction would edge almost close to uncomfortable.

Lance’s hand eased in his hair.

Keith eased the suction.

It was all communication, really. And Keith was so much better at talking without words.

He started in earnest, lubricating the length and using his hand and mouth to apply steady pressure, varying only when the position got too hard on him. Every time he switched it gave Lance a chance to rest as his pleasure built.

Lance, for his part, had his hands on every part of Keith he could touch. He combed through Keith’s hair, traced his fingertips down the back of Keith’s neck, grabbed his shoulders as the pressure got more intense. Every so often they’d lock eyes, and when they did Keith felt his own need grow. He’d decided it was up to him to teach Lance real pleasure, slowly, the right way, but what he wouldn’t give to see Lance under him, blush-tinged cheeks pressed against the pillowcase, moaning Keith’s name when he asked him to.

It was a hard image to shake.

“K-Keith, I’m…fuck, I’m close,” Lance managed to choke out, and Keith kept the pressure with his hand as he looked up. The desperation in Lance’s eyes was the more exquisite for Keith knowing it was his doing; after all, he had Lance literally in the palm of his hand.

He wondered if he could take it one small step further.

“Do you trust me?”

He saw the question in Lance’s eyes, a hint of doubt. He pulled his hand up and down again, slow enough to make sure he didn’t let Lance come.

“Fuck, ah, yes.”

“Good,” Keith said, lubricating a finger with his tongue before returning his mouth to Lance’s tip, teasing it to keep his mind occupied. He’d need to start carrying lube in his belt, for how often he was starting to need it.

He slipped his hand against Lance’s ass, getting him used to the feeling. He twitched, but to his credit he said nothing, just putting his hand back in Keith’s hair.

Good, so he did trust him.

Keith hadn’t had many lovers, but he’d had enough sex to know how to coordinate the next part, making it smooth. He’d never tried it with someone so seemingly new, but he thought Lance would do just fine.

No, not just fine. He thought Lance was really going to like what came next, and slid his finger in, crooking it just so as he took his dick in his mouth, increasing his strokes to the speed they’d been going just a moment before.

And sped up, just a little.

Lance lost the ability to form words, just grabbing hair and moaning nonsense as he shot into Keith’s mouth, loosing himself in sharp strokes that nearly made Keith choke. He took as much he could before pulling back, catching the rest with his hand, his shoulder. He already’d pulled his finger out, not wanting to catch Lance in a really unfortunate way.

It was a long moment before Lance could speak again, and his next words made Keith grin.

“Come here.”

He stood, and Lance leaned forward without hesitation, going down on Keith with the fervor of a parched man who’d stumbled on an oasis. He started to sneak his own hand down Keith’s ass, presumably to give Keith the same treatment he’d received, but Keith grabbed it and put it to his cock instead. He braced himself on the chair as Lance stroked and sucked him to rough orgasm, finishing Keith against his chest, sweaty forehead on Keith’s stomach.

They stood still for a moment, breathing hard, letting the rush of nerves subside.

“Fuck, dude,” Lance said, at last. Keith again tried to step back, but he found Lance’s hand still on his hip.

“I take it that was all right?”

“More than all right, but, like…,” Lance grinned up at him. Damn, how did he manage to still look so innocent with cum on his collarbone? “I didn’t know you felt that way?”

“I guess I didn’t either, until recently.” Keith shrugged. “That didn’t seem like your first rodeo.”

“I mean, I guess I did my share of ‘bonding’ with the guys, as we called it.”

Keith reached down to grab his belt, searching the compartments before he realized he didn’t have any tissues with him.

“Oh—hand me my jacket, I’ve got one,” Lance said. Keith tossed it to him and Lance rummaged through it to find a wadded-up napkin, grinning and shrugging as he passed it to Keith. He wiped off his finger and his own shoulder before starting on Lance.

“And the finger…was that okay?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve done that before.” He grinned harder, reclining in the pilot’s chair. “There was this really kinky chick at the Garrison who opened my eyes to that.”

“Not a Holt?”

“No, not like Matt…hold on,” Lance said, the realization dawning on him. “THAT Matt? He’s Pidge’s brother?”

Now it was Keith’s turn to grin.

“You should ask her about it sometime. When I’m in the room,” he said, but then remembered that Matt was still missing, somewhere out there in space. Hopefully still with the rebels, but… “On second thought, maybe wait until we get more news on him.”

“Yeah,” Lance said, sobering. The conversation quieted and they were back to their senses, naked, in the cockpit of the Red Lion.

“Look, Lance,” Keith started, wanting to stem the hurt that Lance was starting to creep in. “I’m…really sorry about before. I shouldn’t’ve tried to insert myself into something I didn’t know anything about.”

“You…didn’t know.”

“I should have asked,” Keith said, bracing his hands on the dash to keep from crossing his arms. Lance wasn’t going to like the next part, but it needed to be said. “But you should’ve said something, too.”

“What, so it’s on me?”

“It was on all of us,” Keith said, shrugging. “But your needs and wants are important. If you don’t feel comfortable, always speak up.”

Lance said nothing, avoiding Keith’s gaze. He sighed.

“But yes, it was on me, and it was on Allura, too. I’ll talk to her, but we just have to be better about communicating.”

“Oh, so this was just sex, too?”

That bitter edge—Allura, what in the world happened between the two of you?

He squatted, making sure he was in Lance’s line of sight. “It wasn’t just sex. It was sex with you. And I enjoyed it.”

“You…did?” Lance said, then sighed, putting his hands over his face again. “I mean, I did too, it’s just…it’s all been a lot.”

“Yeah,” Keith said, then reached out to peel Lance’s hands from his face, holding them in his own. “And I’ll give you time to think, but…I care about you, and I don’t want to see you hurt like this. And I know,” _did he?_ “Allura feels the same.”

At the sound of her name Lance winced, but said nothing. Keith stood, getting ready to leave, but Lance gripped his hands.

“Thanks, man.”

“Anytime. Just let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”

Lance let out a little ‘heh’ as he let go of Keith’s hands.

“Yeah, will do.”

Keith pulled on his leggings and boots as fast as he could, slipping on his shirt just before grabbing his jacket to leave. Lance said nothing, but Keith felt like he was being watched as he left the hangar, and not just by Red.

Well, good. He’d accomplished what he’d come to do, but he had one more stop to make before he could sleep.

To see a woman about a hurting man.

 

* * *

 

“What did you tell him?”

To say Allura was unprepared for Keith’s ire was an understatement.

“What did I tell him? I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“You made it my business when we started having sex,” Keith said, arms crossed and eyes cold. He looked around the hall. “Let me in, we need to talk.”

She didn’t want to, not with an attitude like that, but she was sure they were going to have this out now no matter where they were, and she decided she’d rather have privacy than let the whole ship know what kind of a mess she was in. A mess she’d made; well, no. A mess she’d helped create. Her contributions sure hadn’t helped, as evidenced by the man now pacing her room.

She shut the door behind her.

“I’ve never seen him so hurt.”

“I told him how I felt,” she said, crossing her arms before her. He wasn’t the only one who could be defensive.

“Which was?”

“Which was that I cared for him, I do, but I have no time for a relationship.”

“And is that what he wanted?”

“Didn’t you ask? You’ve clearly just come from him,” she said, polite enough not to mention the stench of sex. It was now explicitly not her business what or who Lance did in his spare time, but it did seem a bit hypocritical, to be hurt that she’d wanted to sleep with Keith and then doing it himself.

But, whatever. It wasn’t her place.

Jackass.

Keith stopped, grimacing. “I didn’t ask, but…Allura,” he met her eyes, and not for the first time she felt like they were opposite pieces on a chessboard, equal in power and prowess but always finding themselves facing off across a chasm of misunderstanding. “Are you just out for sex?”

“That’s a bit…harsh,” she said. “I told him, feelings can’t come into this, not for me, not now. Too much is at stake.”

“So you don’t have feelings for him at all.”

“I didn’t say that,” she said, replaying the conversation over and over in her head as she’d been doing over the last hour, though she’d been trying desperately to think about anything else, to focus on what really mattered: the Galra movements, the recruitment, how in the world they were going to feed the refugees that flooded in daily…but no, her thoughts instead were occupied by what went wrong, and it could get people killed. “I told him he’s special, you’re all special, but trying to sort my feelings beyond sex for stress relief is what could get us all killed.”

He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face, through his hair, stretching in a backbend.

And then he really looked at her.

He reached across the space between them, wiping a tear with her thumb she hadn’t known had spilled out.

“He’s not like we are, Allura,” Keith said, finally.

“I know,” she said, leaning into the touch.

“He can’t separate the sex from his feelings.”

“I know.”

“And that’s what makes him so…,” Keith searched for the right word, “…charming? Irresistible?”

“Him,” Allura finished, putting her hand on his. “But I can’t help who I am, either. I don’t know if I could ever be with just him.”

“I’m not sure that’s what he needs,” Keith said, bringing their hands down between them, squeezing hers before letting go. “He needs to know you’re with him for a reason. That he’s special to you.”

“I tried to tell him…”

“Try again,” he said, with an edge but not meant as a jab. “He can’t just be a fling, Allura. He cares too much for that.”

“I know, but…,” she sighed. “He said he thinks we should just be friends.”

Keith crossed his arms. “Then maybe it’s too late.”

“I…maybe,” she said, deflating. Keith was right. She’d treated Lance too casually. She’d known better, but had believed the facade he’d thrown up to protect his heart, and had done it all knowing somewhere that this would be the inevitable outcome.

Keith left, his piece said, acknowledged. Understood by the relevant party.

She’d hurt Lance, and Lance had stepped away.

Perhaps that…was for the best.

Maybe someone like her shouldn’t be around someone like him. Too many opportunities for her to wound him, for him to misunderstand.

She needed someone more like her.

She knew she should step away from all this, take time to think rationally, to figure out what she really wanted. No, not even that—hadn’t she just told Keith that she had no time for meaningless thoughts like those? She should withdraw, focus on their mission, become the leader they, even Lance, needed her to be.

All good thoughts she ran through as she walked through the halls.

And stopped in front of Shiro’s door.

Even she knew this was a bad idea, probably, but Lance’s scent mixed with Keith’s sweat had turned her on even as it hurt her. He’d moved on, or was trying to, and so she would do the same. She’d get the comfort she needed, from the one person in her godforsaken castle who understood her position.

Before she had the chance to knock, or to leave, the door opened.

“I thought I heard someone,” Shiro said. “Everything okay?”

“I…need your advice,” she said, and he waved her in.

She’d never been in Shiro’s room before; though he’d told them all they were welcome anytime, day or night, she was pretty sure he hadn’t meant for this. His bed was made with military precision, like Keith’s, and Allura wasn’t surprised he’d kept up with the habit. After all, after such trauma and loss…well, Allura knew the importance of habits, of taking time in doing the little things right. Those little things were the only things they had control over, and so they took whatever modicum of control they could get.

Though the room was nearly as bare as Keith’s, it was warmer, somehow. Shiro had rearranged, put books on his bookcase, with a small reader she’d seen Pidge use set on a small table nearby. His dinette had a few empty dishes, neatly stacked to take back to the mess, and Allura even spotted an empty beer can behind. When had he picked that up?

He waved her to the armchair he’d set by a reading light in the corner, something he’d asked for early on. She’d offered the castle’s spare furnishings to anyone who wanted more in their room, but only a few of the paladins had taken her up. Shiro leaned on his desk, another customization, the surface strewn with maps and charts. Maybe his neat tendencies didn’t reach all the way to his work habits.

“You wanted to talk?”

_What am I doing here?_ She thought, unsure in the bright light of his room. This wasn’t like Altea, where sex could be offered as easily as a hug, and where Lance had been openly interested and had actively pursued her, she didn’t have that relationship with Shiro. It was purely professional.

So far.

“Shiro,” she started, not quite sure what to say, where to start.

“Take your time—would you like some water?”

She put her fingers to her throat, just realizing how dry it was. “That would be lovely, thanks.”

He pushed off the desk and walked toward his little built-in kitchen, and she watched him go, lingering on his muscular body, his legs sculpted by his black leggings. He wasn’t wearing his usual vest or belt, and so she could see where his long-sleeved grey shirt came to a neat v between his collarbones. He was barefoot in the comfort of his room, big feet padding across the floor. For such a muscular man, he still had an ease of movement, a fluidity she would have assumed of Lance or Pidge.

He held out the glass and she took it, sipping as he took a seat on the floor. “You can tell me anything, Allura, but only if you want to. This is a safe space.”

Allura gripped the glass, grateful for something to do with her hands.

“Shiro…how do you keep it all together?”

“What do you mean?”

“Leading Voltron, after…everything you’ve gone through. Helping me. Keeping the other paladins in line and focused. Keeping yourself in such good shape.”

To her surprise, he laughed.

“I don’t.” He put a knee up and braced his arm against it. “I do my best to stay focused, to keep my mind and body ready, but no one can do it all.” He flicked his hand for emphasis. “Even though you certainly try.”

“I…do,” she said, “…try, that is. But it all seems like so much, and I…,” no, not now, she wouldn’t tell him about her loss of control. That, she could figure out on her own. “It just sounds like you’re telling me that a good leader can’t have it all.”

“Sure they can, Allura—with enough people to help them. But we’re a skeleton crew, and with Keith out, you’re now being asked to pull double shifts. I know how much pressure that is, and I’m sorry to ask it of you.”

“That’s not…,” _the issue!_ She wanted to scream, but she shook her head. “I don’t want to give up piloting Blue, if I can help it.”

“I know,” he said, cracking the knuckles on his hand, “I understand how you feel, and as long as you’re okay, you can still do both. All I’m saying is that, asking for everything at this point is going to drive you to burnout. Do what you can, and let us pick up the slack where we can.”

He met her eyes, and she realized that though he lounged, his body language non-threatening, there was an energy there, should she choose to acknowledge it. It was in his engaged bicep, the part that was still human; how his legs, one bent, one straight, drew in her gaze.

“And, if you can,” he started, wry smile on his lips, “find a way to relax.”

He winked.

An invitation.

She set the water down, trembling hand splashing the liquid within.

“Shiro,” she said, picking up her courage and smoothing her skirts so that they wouldn’t wrinkle as she knelt on the floor, eyes level with his. He sat up straighter, narrowing the space between them. “Do you think…you could help me relax?”

“I’d like nothing more,” he said, and leaned in as she did, their lips meeting in the middle. Allura never grew tired of how different lips could feel, thick or thin, rough or smooth, wet or dry—or of how somehow they always managed to reflect the person behind them. Shiro’s had a firm intensity that was warm without pressing, a passion controlled, directed. She should have come here first, should have told Lance to stuff his pick-up lines, and come here, to Shiro, who knew what she wanted.

Or did he? Would this just become another situation, like Lance? Would they both be after her to pick, settle? Was she just projecting?

She broke the kiss.

“I’m not looking for more than sex.” Best to be blunt.

Shiro grinned, the earnest boyishness a look she didn’t get to see on him very often. “Works for me.”

She kissed him, then; pushing him back with the force of it, so he was back on his elbows as her fingers were in his hair. He let her explore him, bracing them both as they found their stride with their lips, learning each other. She slipped her leg between his, finding his hand with hers as she planted it for stability. With her free hand, she explored his jaw, throat, chest.

And pushed him down to the floor.

His arms freed, he moved them to her waist, holding her firm; sliding them just lower, his fingers behind her hipbones, the pressure a promise, a hint of his need. She leaned down into him, her breasts pillowing on his chest, sweeping her hair behind her so it wouldn’t get between them.

It was slow, almost careful. She drove into his lips, increasing her force, wanting to show him that she was well beyond the point of needing to be coaxed to passion. After all, it was Shiro: steadfast, empathetic, well-muscled Shiro. She’d wanted him for a long time, but was afraid the added dimension would get in the way of their professional relationship, for him.

Turns out, she needn't have worried. It was because he was the leader that he knew how important a little physical stress relief could be.

But…why was he holding back?

“Shiro,” She said, breaking away and putting her hands on his chest. He raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said you were going to help me relax.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” He said, pulling her hips to meet his so she could feel him through his leggings.

“Shiro.” She pushed herself up, so she could look down into his eyes, so he knew she meant her next words. “Fuck me.”

Somehow he must have used his abs to crunch himself to sitting, because he was there, his lips on hers, his hands bunched in her dress, crashing into her with meteoric force.

She hoped she hadn’t made a huge mistake, but every nerve in her body was thrilled even if she had.

He laid back, gathering more of her dress in his hands and tugging it up, both working in tandem so he could pull it from her body. He tossed it across the room, the fabric slapping the ground, and took a long moment to look up at her as she straddled him, naked, her hair falling in waves behind her. She knew how she looked in this moment, had seen it in other lover’s faces, even as she thought it herself. She was fierce, beautiful, proud. She was more herself nude than she would ever be with the poor trappings of clothing, and her previous lovers had always said something in this moment, a lip service that, while nice, she never felt she needed. This was for her.

Shiro said nothing.

He took his hands up her side and down her front, his fingers sliding in a very deliberate path over her breasts and down her nipples, over her stomach, sweeping down past her belly and over her hips coming to rest behind her thighs.

And he tugged, just hard enough that she, unprepared, fell forward.

He caught her with his chest, his lips finding hers, a hand on her back, using the momentum to spin them in a careful arc. She, so proud above him, now lay under him, at his mercy.

Right where she wanted to be.

He knelt so that his thighs bolstered hers, taking the moment to strip off his shirt. The ship’s lighting did nothing for his muscles, but they were still a sight to see, as though a master carver had chiseled each one. What the harsh lights did do, however, was catch the pinkish-white skin of his scars, strewn throughout his body. She put a hand on the one on his side, the biggest. He watched her, for a moment, eyes meeting, but he wouldn’t give her the time to dwell on it.

There were better things to do.

He leaned over her, bracing himself with his synthetic arm as he came down to kiss her throat, her neck, her shoulder; slow again, but building, hungry, as if he were playing a connect-the-constellation that sent heat and energy right down between her legs. She gripped the manufactured material, cool against her skin, and ran her other hand through his hair and down between his shoulder blades as he turned his attention to her breasts. His other hand slid under her back, pulling her into him as he took her nipple into his mouth, sucking with enough force to make her moan. Even though he was concentrating on just one point, he was using his whole body to communicate with her, leveraging everything he had. Her thighs draped over his, and if she rocked her hips she could feel him straining against those tight leggings that had never left much to the imagination.

But he had yet to make a peep, and she got the feeling she’d have to put in a lot more work to make him moan.

Work she was more than willing to dedicate herself to.

He’d moved her attention to her other breast, so she took the opportunity to slide her hand down his back, around his thick ribs, down his engaged abs, but he met her hand with his and pushed it back behind her, holding it down next to her head. To add insult to injury, he pushed his hips into hers, letting her feel but not touch. He was in control, and they would be doing things his way.

She was already quite enjoying his way.

With a deliberately disruptive jerk he sat up and hooked his arms under her legs, tilting her to give him better access; and without further comment or discussion, he buried himself between her legs. Shiro gave no quarter, his tongue firm and relentless, his aim true. Even when she told him she was about to come he didn’t let up, pressing on instead until she shook around him.

And even then, he continued, introducing one finger, then two. Gentle, but constant. Letting her open, naturally becoming used to the size and the pressure as he thrust and licked in perfect harmony, until she was there, again, and again.

She was gasping for breath, an arm over her eyes when he finally relented, sliding back only to strip off his leggings.

“Do I need…?” He started, but she glared up at him.

“Just fuck me.”

He complied.

He wasn’t as big as Lance, which was honestly a blessing, but he certainly wasn’t hurting in any department, and she braced her hands on his forearms as he entered her. He shifted her hips so the angle was a little better, then hooked her legs over his shoulders and thrust, slowly.

“Too deep?”

“Oh, n-no…”

“Good.”

Her heart thrilled at that, the tone promising future plans that hinged on her being able to accommodate him. He filled her, then drew back, and Allura wrapped her hands again around his arms, enjoying the difference in feel between his warm flesh and the cold, impartial metal. And the feel of him hard in her, not yet to the point of finding his pace, just readying her with frustratingly smooth strokes. Quizznak, but she was already close again.

He pressed forward to kiss her, letting his bulk curl her as he did, filling her deep. She felt his lips curled against hers.

He knew exactly how close she was.

She was at his mercy.

Of course, she’d always thought that Shiro would make a great lover. He was the oldest of these human paladins, of course, so he had time on his side, but he also navigated his relationships with an ease that spoke to both a deep comfort within himself and keen attention to the needs of others.

But he was so much better than even she had assumed.

She moved her hands to his fresh-shaven cheeks and kept him there, kissing him as he started moving in earnest, finding a rhythm, shortening his long strokes only enough to find momentum. She kept him pressed to her as she came, moaning into his lips, hands wrapping around his neck, his rock-hard shoulders.

And still, he kept on.

Only after three more positions and plenty of body exploration, when she was a puddle in his arms, her back against his chest and his hand between her legs, that he asked to come.

“Please,” she whispered, and he did, burying himself in her, moaning into her shoulder as he let the release overtake him. How long had he been holding back?

He held her to him, his arm around her waist, and she reveled in feeling petite against his frame. He nuzzled his nose in her hair, and she placed her hand on his, sneaking her fingers into the gaps between his.

“Feeling more relaxed?” He asked, and she laughed.

“I…am, thank you.”

“Anytime,” he said, and laughed a little himself. “I mean that.”

She nodded, not sure how to respond, though an involuntary squeeze at the thought of more of this with Shiro made him laugh again.

“You’re welcome to stay the night,” he said, kissing her shoulder, “if you think maybe that wasn’t enough.”

A flash, just for a moment, in her memory; another invitation to stay. She’d left, not wanting it to complicate things and having them complicate anyway.

It was in the past, now; and this…this was different.

“I…think I’d like that.”

They took a moment to clean up, and when Allura came out of the bathroom Shiro handed her one of his shirts and some training shorts to wear to sleep, if she wanted. She shook her head and crawled into bed naked, and Shiro crawled in after, already half-erect by the tent of his sweatpants. That was fine by her—she couldn’t afford to stay for more than sex and sleep.

She buried her head in his pillow as his hand gripped her hip, and pulled back, nearly smacking him in the head. It was faint, but it smelled like Keith.

So Pidge had been right.

“Everything okay?” He said, propping himself up behind her.

She stared at him a long moment, wondering yet again if she was making the right choice.

But sex with Shiro had been so good, so fulfilling. He played her body with the same precision he had when piloting the Black Lion, attuned to her in that moment. Shiro didn’t want anything more than her body and her respect, and besides, Lance had already moved on. This, sleeping with Shiro to relieve her stress…this was for the best.

And yet.

 

* * *

 

She told him everything.

They’d made love a few more times in the night, as one or the other would wake up and feel the other ready, just an arm’s length away. She’d reach out and he’d respond, or he’d touch her to find her turning, ready, legs opening to give him immediate access.

And the sex was fantastic. Allura could match him, tried to best him, though he wouldn’t let her, not tonight. She matched his rhythm with thrusts of her own, a two-way friction that would’ve made Shiro come that much sooner if he hadn’t focused. He was thankful he’d taken time to himself earlier in the day—it gave him time to be unhurried, letting him put her needs above his own.

What came as the biggest surprise to him was how fun it was. Allura knew how to play, how to provoke him without words, to control the dance with her body and her timing. How to slip under his focus and get him there, almost. She’d be dangerous if they kept doing this; dangerous for his health, and his energy. But she’d give him a hell of a training for his self control.

But as morning came, or what passed for morning on the ship, when the auxiliary lights brightened over the course of an hour to resemble daylight, she turned to him, holding his hands and meeting his eyes.

“Shiro,” she said. “I…need your advice.”

And she told him about her past few days: about her and Lance, about their interlude with Keith. About how wrong it had all gone, and how Keith had confronted her about it. How she’d ended up here, with Shiro, where maybe she should have been all along.

“Maybe I should never let him in, but…well, it’s much too late to be saying that. But I’ve hurt Lance, and I never meant to…”

“We never set out to hurt those we love,” he said, rubbing her shoulder. “I’m only getting one side of the story, but it sounds like a breakdown in communication that’s gotten out of hand.”

“That’s an understatement.”

Shiro pushed her hair over her shoulder, the strands miraculously unsnarled, probably a quality of Altean genetics. He’d seen her eyes watering, but hadn’t commented. After all, as steadfast a leader as she was, she still had insecurities she hadn’t yet wrangled, and often let her emotions influence her judgment. Both qualities that helped her pilot the Blue Lion.

Both qualities she shared with Lance.

“I think both of you, and yes, I mean both,” he said, driving the point home as she looked up to him, “need to take some time to sort out what you really want.”

“I want…to feel in control again. Especially…of Blue,” she said, her voice small. He’d seen her performance, knew something had been up. Now it all made sense.

“Of course, that’s important in the greater scheme of things. But, Allura, paladins best connect with their Lions when they lay themselves bare, and we can only form Voltron when we are that vulnerable with each other. Secrets, lies…even just things unsaid, those all get in the way.

“The Lions demand the best of us,” he said, wiping away a tear that had trickled out. “We must respect their power by giving it to them.”

“I know, but…how do I get there, when I don’t even know what I really want?”

“I think you just have to be honest about that,” he cupped her cheek with his hand. “Talk to Lance, again, and lay it all out. I think you have more feelings than you think you do, and even if you can’t place them, or don’t want to deal with them now, he’ll understand.”

Shiro sighed. “I think he just needs to know that he’s special to you for his own sake.”

“Keith said the same thing,” she said, wiping her own tear and taking a deep breath. “I tried, but…I’ll try again.”

“Lance is hurt, not angry. I think he’ll be willing to listen.” Shiro slid his hand down Allura’s arm and took her hand in his, bringing her fingers to his lips. “Though, as honestly great as this was, I think we should wait to do it again until after you’ve cleared things up.”

She blinked up to him, and not for the first time this morning he’d felt himself lucky, to see this side of her; messy and raw and glorious, her cheeks still flushed. He could see himself waking up to this, stealing moments of quiet calm in each other before parting ways to play their own parts in saving the world.

But she’d asked him for only sex, and for now that’s all he’d give. Maybe there’d be time for more, later. And if she wanted sex with others, well, she’d be the better for it, as would he.

It was just nice to wake up with her in his arms.

“I mean, if you want to do this again,” he amended, realizing belatedly that maybe her interest may have just been for the night.

“Of course,” she said, tilting her head to capture his lips in a kiss that bordered on more than friendly, then she pulled back. “Sorry, you just said…right.”

“Go talk to Lance first,” he said, feeling his body already start to respond.

“Right.” She slipped out of bed and put on her dress as he sat on the edge, watching her.

“Want me to look out to see if he’s in the hall?”

She turned to face him, finishing a loose braid in her hair.

Grinning.

“Oh, no need — this isn’t the first time a member of Altean royalty has visited the Black Lion’s quarters privately,” she said, and went to his closet, sliding the clothes to the side and putting her hand on a print he’d always assumed was some violent remnant from when Zarkon stayed there. An outline formed around her hand, then another lit up a door shape, and it slid open.

“That’s a dangerous thing to know about, Princess.”

She just waved, and left.

And it was Shiro, alone, tired, having given advice he believed in but wasn’t entirely happy about.

Time for yoga.

 

* * *

 

Pidge slept poorly. She’d even thought about retreating to her room in the early morning, hoping maybe the solitude would let her get the deep REM sleep she needed, but she didn’t want to leave Hunk’s warm embrace. So she rode it out, staring at the wall, counting sheep, planning her next move to find Matt. Doing whatever she could to take her mind off the matter at hand.

But when morning came and she was still drifting in and out of daydreams, she called it quits, slipping out of bed as quietly as she could.

“Wherrugoin,” Hunk mumbled, paw-like hand reaching out to keep her there. She tumbled out of reach.

“Yoga. Wanna come?”

Silence.

“Go back to sleep.”

“One day I’ll…”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“If it’s important to you…”

“Another time,” she said, kissing him on his forehead, in the spot between his cowlicks, his bangs managing to stick up at every odd angle. He snuffled back under the covers, and she dropped by her room only to change into her leggings and sportsbra, throwing one of Lance’s old shirts she’d rescued and turned into a tank top over the whole thing. She grabbed a hair tie and barrette and put her hair up, tugging on her ponytail when she noticed the length. It was about time for a haircut for all of them, though maybe she’d grow it out this time. If Allura could fit all that hair under a helmet, so could she.

Who was she kidding, she’d keep it short; the upkeep was easier. But maybe one of these days. Not as long as she’d had it, but…shoulder-length? A bit longer?

She supposed she could braid it.

A quick washup and she was out the door, making her way down to the lounge, in front of the large window out into space. No matter how long they’d been out there, drifting through the cosmos, she’d never get used to the millions of stars and planets and galactic bodies outside these windows, near enough to touch. Not too long ago, she thought Matt’s trip to Kerberos had been on the cutting edge of space travel.

Now Kerberos was an unfathomable distance away, out of sight as long as she’d been a paladin. Would they ever go back?

Would she ever be able to find Matt?

“Pidge, good morning,” a voice said from behind, and she turned to see Shiro making his way through the room. Only then did it occur to her that she’d made it there first—the only time in recorded history that Pidge could remember.

Maybe she should play the lottery.

“Sup, pops,” she said, and they clasped their hands in the secret handshake he’d developed with Matt but shared with her. Shiro had often been her sounding board for her worries about her family, and he’d told her stories about her father and brother to cheer her up. Shiro had never told her to stay strong, to not worry. He’d just been there, to help her process her fear and loss, to cheer her up so she could go on. He gave her the courage and support to keep searching, and passed along anything he heard as soon as the reports came across his desk.

Maybe what she needed was more than just some stretching and centering.

They started seated, facing the vastness of space. It was a time to check in with themselves, to take a moment to set an intention, to focus on the next hour of balance and stretching. At the stupid early hour they wouldn’t be bothered—only Coran was ever up this early, and even he was usually making breakfast or watching the news.

So she settled, and focused. All she wanted to do was feel right in herself. The violation of her friend’s trust had been accidental, but it still seemed awful. She’d have to tell him, but that would admit her relationship with Hunk. Which seemed like small fry now, all things considered, but she so valued the little space they’d created with each other, building their relationship in private.

Thus, her intention today would be courage.

“Shiro?” She started, after they’d moved through their initial down dogs and cat-cows, and were in their high lunges, preparing for warrior pose, “have you…ever heard something you weren’t supposed to?”

He kept his gaze straight. “I have. Did you?”

They moved up, and she continued, speaking on her exhale. “Yeah, last night.”

He wavered, nearly losing his balance, his course-correcting apparent in the corner of her eye. “From your room?”

_Why is that important? Oh…was he with his partner again?_ She was pretty sure it’d been Keith, but after she heard Lance’s story…

Right, Lance.

“N-no, I was in Hunk’s room.”

“Oh. And you overheard something?”

“Yeah, um.” She didn’t want to talk about Lance’s business, but she needed Shiro’s advice. They switched legs in their pose, and Pidge stared at Shiro’s squared shoulders, pulling her own back to imitate his.

“Unless it’s about the Galra, you don’t have to tell me the details,” he said, and she sighed, not realizing she was holding her breath.

“It’s not about the Galra.”

They went through a few more poses, waving through chaturanga before coming back to downward dog. They did the same routine every time, having learned it off an old DVD Lance inexplicably had in his bag of crap, and though they’d talked about modifying the sequence, they hadn’t quite gotten around to it.

“I just…,” she started again, as they straightened from forward fold, “I feel awful that I overheard it, but I don’t think admitting that I know about the situation will help anything. But I still feel guilty, like I violated hi—their privacy.”

_Nice catch_ , she said, knowing it hadn’t been one at all. Well, whatever. There were plenty of dudes on this cock-rocket. Hell, it could be about Coran, for all Shiro knew.

They took a moment to get into tree pose, steadying themselves, picking a spot on the wall to help keep balance. Pidge wondered how he managed to keep so balanced with his metal arm, but he never really seemed bothered by it. It was heavy—she’d done a full diagnostic, as with her science and computer skills, she’d become the default biometrics-keeper — but it never seemed to bother him.

Nothing much seemed to bother him.

“Look, Katie,” he said, using her real name only when they were alone, talking about the deep things, like how to face the void when everything they knew was a million trillion miles away. “Normally I’d say we should be honest with each other, that keeping secrets would affect our time as Voltron, but if the other party doesn’t know, I think you’re okay. Unless you think it’ll affect your performance?”

“No, I think I can handle it, I just…feel so bad. I didn’t want to hear it, but I did, and now I have to sit with that knowledge, unable to help because I’m not supposed to know.”

They dropped into another chaturanga cycle.

“I know how that feels,” Shiro said, grimacing in a way that didn’t seem entirely due to the stretch. “But you can be there for them in other ways.”

“Yeah.” They finished their practice in silence, and Pidge mulled over what he’d told her. He was right, of course. She could extra-be there for Lance, and he’d probably be happy for the distraction, even if he didn’t know why it’d come. She liked hanging out with him. Sometimes he’d get too crude, but most of the time he was an open book, and she liked his earnestness. Even back at the Garrison, he’d seen her as a nervous wreck and taken her under his wing, completing their little trio. The very least she could do would be to return the favor.

When they finished the meditation, Pidge rolled up to sitting, though she knew she should take her time. She enjoyed the little lightheadedness, and was ready for Shiro as soon as he sat up.

“Thanks, Shiro.”

“Anytime—you know you can tell me anything.”

“About that,” she said. She played with the hem of her shirt, dreading what she was about to say but needing to say it nonetheless. Hunk had left it up to her early on, and Shiro, as their leader, needed to know. “Hunk and I are, well, dating.”

She said it quickly just to get it out, afraid she’d lose the courage she’d spent the last hour building, but the look on his face made her wish she’d padded the news a little first.

“I…Pidge, for how long?”

“Like…a few months?” He ran his hands over his face and through his hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to be such a surprise…I just thought you should know.”

“Ah, no, it’s fine, I mean…,” he managed a tight lipped smile, “…it’s not really my place to comment, as long as you both can manage your paladin duties without any issue.”

He ran his hands over his face again, and Pidge couldn’t help but feel like she’d just undone all the hard work he’d put in. But what could she say?

“Is he good to you?”

She blinked at him. _What kind of a question was that?_

“Of course?”

He laughed. “I’m not surprised. Well, good. I’m happy for you, Pidge.”

They got up to leave, but he turned to take one last look out the window. “I won’t tell anyone, but I’d consider telling everyone. They’ll only be happy for you two, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I know,” she said, sheepish. Now that the secret was out to one person, and he’d been fine, she felt ready to tell the others. She’d just have to let Hunk know.

Unable to help herself, she sidled over and squirmed under his arm, wrapping hers around his waist. “Thanks, Shiro.”

“Anytime, kid,” he said, and they looked out to space for a while longer, prolonging the peace they both had the feeling would soon end.

 

* * *

 

Shiro called an all-hands meeting, including Keith.

“The mission is tomorrow,” Shiro said, the plans on the main display. The paladins had assembled, but they were disjointed, tension tainting the usually professional feel of their meetings. No one looked at each other.

“It’s come to my attention that there are things going on between us, which is starting to put our mission in jeopardy,” he said, crossing his arms, standing square and at perfect attention. He was rarely so formal, and the others sensed it, even those as deep in their own thoughts as Lance and Pidge. They straightened, neatened up a bit.

Glances were traded across the board.

“Now I don’t need to know everything, but we’re about to do our final training run. I expect you to get in your Lions, or play your roles with our allies or here in the castle,” he gestured to Keith and Coran, “and I expect things to go well. I want you to focus, and trust each other.

“If you can’t—if we can’t get out there and work together as a flawless team, I’m calling off the mission.”

At that, all eyes were truly focused on Shiro, and he met them in return.

“People’s lives depend on us, and what we do has real consequences. If we can’t put aside our differences, our worries and fears, and trust in our love for each other and the bonds we’ve built this past year, we’ll be dead, and the resistance will end. The Galra win. Don’t forget that.”

He walked toward the transporter, splitting his audience. “If you have issues, leave them here. Out there, we are a team. Am I clear?”

“Yes!” A chorus echoed to his back. He turned, stepping back into his transporter.

“I’ll see you out there.”

He vanished, and there was silence. None of them had ever seen him lose his temper.

And now, they never wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes things have to get worse before they get better...and trust me, they do get better ;) Thanks for reading this far, and thanks for all the Kudos/Subscriptions/Bookmarks/Comments! I get really excited every time I check back and see how many people have read and enjoyed All Cats. It keeps me going through all my other writing, so thank you!
> 
> Check back next Sunday...we're getting closer to the climax! Eh-heh :D


	6. A Tiger by the Tail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro goes it alone, the not-fun way; Keith checks on and checks out Lance; Pidge works out her frustrations and clears the air with Lance; Allura finds both comfort and culinary discomfort in the kitchen with Hunk; and the mission interrupts the reconciliation of Lance and Allura.

* * *

 

They’d performed extremely well.

Shiro hadn’t meant to be so tough on them. He’d wanted to talk it through with as much sensitivity as he could, but…Pidge’s admission had put him in a tailspin. How could she have kept something so important from him for so long?

No, that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t any of his business, and she and Hunk had never caused any problems, unlike a few paladins he could name. Hell, it didn’t even seem like anything had ever changed between them. When were they finding the time? Those long hours spent together in the lab, perhaps?

He knew all of that, but it still hurt. He had relationships with all of the paladins, but of them all he and Pidge probably had the closest bond. She reminded him of Matt, who he’d come to regard as a close friend; but she was funny and easygoing in her own right, with underlying emotions that were only amplified by the deep loneliness of space. They’d talked about everything in their late-night conversations, when neither could sleep and all they wanted was something to take their mind off of the doubts that crept in, thoughts of their lives before Voltron. After.

He didn’t think it was a matter of trust—she probably just wanted her privacy. He understood; hadn’t he just wanted the same?

But it brought to light the bigger picture, though he was sure he still didn’t know the full size of it. In all his work on his team, analyzing their strengths and weaknesses both in and out of the Lions, trying to find ways for them to bond with each other…he never expected this total release of hormones, for the bonds to turn sexual almost across the board.

And he should have expected it.

After all, it happened often enough in the Garrison, and though it wasn’t touched on in class, more than one commander had taken him aside before the Kerberos mission and told him what to expect in a long intergalactic journey in close quarters.

Especially accompanied by Matt Holt.

He’d already known that much, but it had never occurred to Shiro to transfer that warning to this mission, and now he’d let his paladins down. He should have prepared them, emotionally and physically. Even he’d been unprepared, last night. He should have asked Allura about sexual health, about whether or not he should have used a condom, and about how pregnancy worked for Alteans, though she hadn’t been concerned. He should have asked, but all he saw was a goddess of the cosmos, nude, straddling him with those long legs and demanding that he fuck her.

He still should have asked.

Now it felt too late to give the sex talk, especially as he’d gotten his information in private, and didn’t want to make it feel like he was singling anyone out, though he was sure both Allura and Pidge already felt that way. Maybe he should have said more this morning, before they got in their Lions. He’d assumed they were all responsible adults, but even responsible adults had no idea how to navigate hormones and sex without being taught. The fact that some people assumed they were expected to magically know how it all worked still baffled Shiro. He’d been lucky enough to have some very good teachers, who had educated both his body and mind, making him the man he was today.

He was sure, after Allura’s account, that no one had done that for Lance.

And he himself couldn’t do it for him, either, after the events of last night. Lance would misunderstand Shiro’s motivations, and right now he needed a Red Lion that was a good right hand. They could work it out between themselves after the Galra were defeated.

Or maybe Keith could teach him. Keith knew enough to see what Lance needed, to help him grow, though Keith was someone who seemed to have learned more through careful study of theory than intimate, messy practice.

Well, it wasn’t his concern, insofar as Lance performed well as a paladin. And he had. He’d had no problem running the drills — in fact, he’d been sharper across the board, seeing opportunities and giving direction when he could. Even with Allura, who’d responded as though nothing had happened.

Maybe that’s all the team had needed. A stern reminder, and immediate practice. Reinforcement that all this friendship and bond-forming was in service of something bigger than themselves, something more than just sticking their parts in each other and toying with the idea of love.

Shiro exhaled and got up from his pilot’s seat, ending his usual post-fight meditation and internal postmortem. He tried to take a precious few minutes after the fights if he could, and always after practice, to assess what had gone well, what had gone poorly.

How his team had done despite their mess.

“Ugh,” he said audibly, shaking his head. For some reason he couldn’t get the anxiety out of his system, the feeling he’d failed them all somehow.

“Shiro, everything okay?”

_Fuck_.

“Hey, Keith…yeah, I’m fine.” Keith fell in step with Shiro as they made their way out of the hangar and into the locker room. Shiro stepped into the tube made for getting the paladins in and out of their armor, and it filled with exhaust as the automated hands stripped him piece by piece, leaving him in his undershirt and leggings. Keith leaned against a row of lockers as Shiro went to his own, and bending to slide his boots out of their cubby.

“Everyone looked good out there.” Shiro didn’t look up, but Keith’s voice was measured, waiting. Shiro really didn’t want to deal with whatever Keith had to say at the moment, but he was their leader, and this was one of his duties. If Keith wanted some of his time, he would give it.

“Yeah. It certainly feels like everyone found their stride.”

“Probably because of your…pep talk,” Keith said, as Shiro slid on his other boot. “Those ‘things going on between us’—I assume you weren’t just talking about us?”

“It’s not my place to say what’s been told to me in private,” Shiro said, standing and turning to get his vest. “I’m sure I don’t know everything, but I know enough to know that we’re at risk of losing our focus.”

“Does that mean you aren’t interested anymore?”

Ah, so that’s what he was getting at. Shiro turned to Keith as he zipped up his vest, seeing the worry hidden in the crossed arms and carefully impassive stare.

“No, it doesn’t mean that…well, actually, it probably does, at least until after this mission is over.”

“And then I leave with the Blades.”

“Not immediately. Besides, I thought we’d agreed that this was just sex.”

“Then why’s it got you so bothered, Shiro?” Keith said, pushing off the wall and stalking toward Shiro.

“Because I can handle it, but some of us can’t.”

“And if they can’t, that means suddenly you aren’t allowed to?” Keith stopped just inside Shiro’s personal space, staring up at him, close enough to kiss if Shiro just tilted his head. “You’re stressed, and I want to help—hell, I’m stressed too. If you don’t want to, that’s fine, but it seems like something’s getting to you.”

“Keith…,” he said, looking down, and Keith took the opportunity, kissing Shiro just under his chin. It was enough to make Shiro growl, to tilt his head to kiss back, his body already responding, ready.

But he couldn’t help thinking of Keith with Lance, Allura. Couldn’t help thinking of Allura herself, under him, screaming his name as quietly as she could as he thrust into her. Allura, as she confessed the mess they’d all gotten into.

He broke away.

“Keith…I’m sorry, we better not. After the mission, perhaps.” Shiro broke away and slid past Keith, ignoring when Keith called out. The door shut behind him, and he made his way to his room, for some more goddamn meditation.

How had things gotten so totally out of hand?

 

* * *

 

Automatic doors couldn’t be slammed, but that one sure felt like it had.

What was up with Shiro? Two days ago he’d been perfectly willing to share some mutual stress relief, and now he acted like the very thought was just handing Voltron and the coalition over to the Galra.

Did he know about what had happened?

He must; unless something else had happened in Shiro’s life without them knowing. That may be possible; Keith didn’t know everything Shiro did with his time. Maybe something had happened to Pidge or Hunk? Fat chance, those two just spent their time holed up in the lab, inventing new tech every other dobosh. Maybe they’d spotted something dangerous on the Galra-Finder and let Shiro know? But Shiro had said outright that the problem lie with the paladins themselves, and their relationships. So he must know.

Who’d told him?

Did it matter?

It was Allura, he reasoned, leaving the room and wandering the hall. Unless Lance had gone to Shiro after Keith had left. But it didn’t seem like something Lance would be looking to share with their leader, especially as he was sorting out his confusion and hurt.

And it didn’t matter, really. Shiro’s pointed warning _had_ gotten everyone working in tandem again, better than normal. When told to leave their problems in the Castle, they did. But once they touched back down, and the metal halls closed in on them…

Those problems came back, with interest.

Keith knocked on Lance’s door, to check on him, like any friend would. That’s what friends did, right?

Were they friends? Or just comrades who happened to bicker and fuck?

“Who is it?”

His voice already sounded a little hoarse, muffled. Not good.

“Keith.”

“C’mon in,” he said, and the door opened.

Humidity saturated the air, and Keith looked around but didn’t see Lance in the room. “Where are you?”

“In the—ow!—bathroom. Gimme a sec,” he said, and Keith heard the sound of running water, ripping paper. Keith busied himself by looking around Lance’s room—when was the last time he’d been in here? And how did Lance have so much stuff? His closet doors were open, the rack full, shoes strewn on the floor. His sheets and cover were halfway off the bed, balanced between mattress and floor, as though they’d go sliding down with the lightest touch. How did he live like this?

Well, he still wasn’t worse than Pidge.

“Sorry about that,” Lance said, and it took Keith everything he had to keep his face blank. He stood freshly-showered, wearing only a towel, sporting a band-aid over his jaw—he must have been shaving. He walked past Keith to his closet, his skin practically radiating warmth, the scent of soap like a cloak around him.

But most shocking to Keith was how this appearance wasn’t meant to seduce or entice. Lance had just gotten out of the shower, and felt comfortable enough around Keith to welcome him in that state of relative undress.

It was a level of self-confidence Keith wasn’t sure he’d ever attain.

“Did you want something?” Lance asked, shuffling the clothes as best he could, a process that mostly involved shoving and tugging until he found the shirt he wanted, stripping it from the hanger with no small amount of force.

“I…uh,” Keith said, keeping his eyes above waist-level, though it let him study Lance’s swimmer-like build, sturdy shoulders narrowing down in an inverted triangle to his whipcord waist. “I just wanted to see if you were doing okay.”

“You mean, from yesterday?” He paused, then shrugged the shirt on. It was a black v-neck, something Keith would’ve expected himself to wear, not Lance. That being said, the black v was an almost-universal good look, and it gave Lance a more mature air. Or was that just his comfortable ease? “I guess. Shiro’s talk this morning helped me focus on the mission, and realize there wasn’t much point in dwelling on any of the other stuff until we had time to figure it all out.”

“That…makes sense.”

“Yeah, I guess it does,” Lance said, finally meeting Keith’s eyes.

_Ah._

_So that’s why he’d been busying himself._

Lance’s eyes couldn’t hide his emotions, even to save his life.

“I think,” Lance started, knowing he’d been found out. Letting himself be found out, really. “I think the worst part of it is that I miss her. She’s a good friend, and because of all this, I feel like I can’t talk to her without it becoming…weird.”

“She hurt you though, didn’t she?”

“Well,” Lance went to his drawers, opening one filled with boxers, “I don’t know if she did.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Keith said, leaning against the closet door.

“She was honest with me, and I can’t help if what she wants and what I want are different.”

Keith mulled that over in silence as Lance selected some dark gray boxers, a more sober pattern than Keith had seen, when he’d caught sight of them hanging out of Lance’s jeans, or like the ones he’d seen up close yesterday. Apparently Lance was undergoing a style renaissance.

_Or._

They locked eyes.

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Is it working?”

_Damn the twinkle in that boy’s stupid, gorgeous eyes_.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? After what Shiro said this morning…,” Keith said, Shiro’s rejection in the locker room fresh.

Lance shrugged.

“I dunno, man. I don’t…I’m not sure I know what’s a good idea anymore, but I’m too overwhelmed to think right now, and I figured maybe…”

“I mean,” Keith said, pushing off the wall. “It’s fine with me, but I don’t want to make things worse.”

“I’m not sure sex with you could possibly make things anything but better,” Lance said, closing the distance.

And dropping his towel.

_Damn_.

_Wait, did he…what did he say?_

But it was too late. Lance was there, his hands on Keith’s waist, gripping as he leaned hard into the kiss. Warning bells in Keith’s mind told him to slow it down, that this was probably a terrible idea, but they were hard to hear against Lance’s breath, the feel of his lips, his warm skin, bare from the waist down. Keith’s fingers betrayed him, scrunching into the fabric of Lance’s shirt. It was hard to argue with Lance when he was in pursuit of something.

Is this how Allura had felt?

But even that thought was quickly washed away, though it had appeared a tether to this reality. Perhaps he’d been too harsh to judge her. After all, he’d been in the room all of five minutes and they were well on their way to fucking for the second time in less than a day. Lance’s tongue was in Keith’s ear, his hands at his jacket, pushing it off, down, the movement practiced. The boy was a quick study.

It was all Keith could do just to keep up.

Lance flung the jacket to the floor and pushed Keith back against the wall. His head hit the metal with a dull thump, making his ears ring and his brain thrum as Lance continued his onslaught, his hands sliding up Keith’s sides under his shirt, gathering the material as he went. Their lips parted only to give room for the fabric to pass, then collided again, Keith responding as best he could, though Lance left no quarter. He pinned Keith’s arms high, provoking a contest of strength Lance was gunning to win and Keith didn’t mind losing at the very moment. He struggled enough to feel like he wasn’t a total pushover, but relished passing control to someone else. He was held, helpless, as Lance’s lips were at his jaw, his collarbone; back up the side of his neck and into his hair, feathering kisses even as he leaned his pelvis in to press against Keith’s. The thick weave of Keith’s leggings allowed just enough sensation through, but it was mostly the knowledge that Lance was bare before him from the waist down, but still as cocky as ever.

Well, maybe a little more obviously so.

Finally Lance snapped Keith’s shirt from his wrists and let Keith’s arms drop, using the time Keith spent rubbing his hands and recovering his senses to strip off his own shirt, leaving him clean and nude save for the one band-aid curled around his chin. Even his physique seemed more leonine than the rest of them, muscles built for running, leaping, twisting. Killing, when he had to; fucking, when he wanted.

“Like what you see?” Lance asked, a hand on his hip and the other at his nape, a pose if Keith ever saw one.

“Yeah,” Keith said, and turned the tides in the moment Lance was disarmed, though he wished he could savor that dopey expression for just a little longer.

But war was war, and so was sex.

He pushed forward into Lance, gripping his waist only to steady them both before sliding his hands down that cut v between his hips, wrapping around his cock with a firm twist. Lance fell forward, gripping Keith’s shoulders, his mouth next to Keith’s ear. He exhaled as Keith slid his hands up, achingly slowly.

“Bastard.”

“ _You_ seduced _me_ ,” Keith said.

“I have no taste.”

“You have great taste, but poor judgment,” Keith said, sliding one hand up and over, putting it back behind the other, a constant cycle of gripping and stroking. “It’s not my fault you don’t think before you act.”

“I…fuck,” Lance said, too overcome to retort. His hands traveled to Keith’s biceps, leaving room for Lance’s forehead to nestle in the crook of Keith’s neck.

“You’re such a pushover,” Keith said, patient, “and you think too much about your partners.”

“That’s…a bad…thing?”

“Too much of anything is a bad thing,” Keith said, kissing Lance’s neck, his ear, relentlessly stroking, one hand over the other.

“Ah, ah!” Lance said, and grabbed Keith’s forearms, arresting the motion. “Case in point…can we, ah, get some lube? It’s a little rough.”

“You have some?”

“I picked some up at the mall last time…condoms, too. If you ever need any.”

_That ship has sailed_ , Keith wanted to say, but, well. It was good to know, nonetheless.

Lance stole a kiss before making his way over to the bed, jumping up on it to reach into the shelving behind. Keith, too invested and horny to protest further, pulled off his boots, tugging as one of them got stuck.

Then he felt a presence behind him.

“You should let me do that,” Lance purred, pulling Keith’s hips toward him, peeling his leggings down over his hips, freeing him. He kissed Keith’s nape slowly as Keith managed to finally get his second boot off, steadying them both with one hand on Keith’s waist as he snuck the other down Keith’s torso. Keith curved into Lance, relishing the feeling of skin on skin, as Lance’s fingers encircled him, too light. Keith tried to push against him but Lance was too quick, moving so the touch was always featherlight, always tempting.

Always goddamn frustrating.

Keith whirled and smacked Lance’s face with his own, finding the kiss anyway as the pain numbed his cheeks, his jaw. Lance had moved with him, his hand now closing with the pressure Keith craved, pulling long, up. Keith pushed into him, using his lower center of gravity to hip-check Lance back, sending them stumbling and kissing and grabbing back into the bed. Lance let go as he fell back, and Keith hooked his arms under Lance’s legs, shoving him fully onto the bed, prone and open and ready.

Without ceremony, and without any warning, Keith took Lance as deep into his mouth as he could comfortably go.

Which, on Lance, was a regrettably short distance.

He moved his hands into position, one on the rest of his shaft, one on his balls, making sure to lavish friction evenly. Lance arced back, but thrust his hand into Keith’s face, brandishing the lube. Keith snatched it and flicked the top open, squeezing it liberally over his other hand, the shaft, Lance’s pelvis. If he wanted lubrication, he would fucking have it.

He took just the tip back in his mouth, pressing his tongue right under the head, little flicks designed to drive Lance insane. He capped the lube and placed it in easy reach with his last measured motion, then used both hands to massage the rest everywhere else. Again he slipped a finger in, and Lance cursed as Keith slid in another.

“Okay?”

“A-Are you kidding me? Fuck,” Lance sighed.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes! Yes, dude, fuck. Fuck me.”

“Can I?” Keith said, his lips moving against the tip, hands moving at once, loosening Lance even as Lance bucked onto, into them.

Lance tensed for a moment, hands gripping his sheets, meeting Keith’s eyes. Keith slowed his fingers, his hand, lightening his strokes so Lance had a chance to think through his proposition without basing his decision solely on immediate need. Lance’s breath was coming deep, ragged, swelling his frame, his sweat dripping down the narrow channels between his muscles. Combined with his flushed cheeks and damp hair, and Lance’s proud cock twitching against Keith’s lips, it made what was possibly the most erotic tableau Keith had ever seen.

Then Lance grinned, and there was that easy confidence that was so undeniably him.

“Yeah.”

Just that one syllable was all Keith needed. He moved his free hand to his own cock, using the abundance of lube on himself, the sensation of his hand making him realize he was closer than he thought he’d been. Well, he’d been casually horny when he’d sought out Shiro, and then to be immediately seduced by Lance—Lance, who, if you’d asked Keith a week ago, he’d have sworn he had no attraction to.

But had he just been lying to himself?

Sure, he and Lance tended to fight, the chip on Lance’s shoulder a wedge between them, but they’d found a way to work together anyway. And though it might gall Lance to hear it, Lance was the reason he’d had any confidence at all during his short stint as the paladin of the Black Lion. His relentless championship of his friends and his belief in the team was what kept them together in Keith’s eyes, more than their shared goal of defeating the Galra and saving the world.

And when Lance was passionate about something, he lit up. Pidge did too, her enthusiasm like a whirlwind, but Lance had the ability to draw you in just through his charisma. Keith remembered a night when they’d been the last two up, and Lance had talked him through the entire _The Fast and the Furious_ franchise and how they were the most incredible movies ever made, and Keith had sat enraptured even as he had no interest in the subject. Hell, when was the last time he’d seen any movie? But the glint in Lance’s eye and the way his hands had moved, the rhythm in his voice as he’d explained the minute things he’d noticed…it had been beautiful.

Just as he was now, cocky and gorgeous, a sprawled mess of limbs and sex.

Waiting for him.

He positioned himself and slid his fingers out, using them to adjust. Slowly, he entered, taking an extraordinarily long time to do so. This was the part that could not be rushed.

“Relax,” he said, as he saw Lance’s hands start to clench in the sheets. “Breathe.”

He did, and Keith moved his free hand to Lance’s cock, stroking, giving him something else to concentrate on as he pushed in. When he was much of the way in he stopped, giving Lance time to get used to the pressure, the feeling of being full. He moved his guiding hand to Lance’s hip, sliding his thumb over the jutting bone.

“You okay?”

“I…think so.”

Keith pulled back just a little, and then pushed in again, small increments each time, his hand still working. Lance struggled to remember to breathe, to relax into the pressure. He gripped Keith’s forearm, and Keith sighed.

“If this is too much…”

“What? No! Keep going, I can…,” he arched back, his grip loosening, “take it.”

“You aren’t comfortable.”

“Don’t tell me what I am, Keith,” Lance said, taking a deep breath. His grin was a little lopsided. “Just do it.”

Keith sighed, but moved all the same, starting out slow. He kept one hand on Lance’s shaft, stroking in time, catching the head with his thumb as he went. He wanted to keep Lance both relaxed and horny, to fill his head with positive sensations while he got used to Keith inside him. Keith himself had never really gotten into anal, but that might have been the fault of bad partners. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure he liked the idea of being penetrated himself—he much preferred penetrating another, seeing them squirm in pleasure before him, pleasure he was giving them…

And pleasure Lance was now starting to feel, by the audible breaths in time with the thrusts.

Keith picked up the pace only a little, knowing he wasn’t going to last long, especially as Lance grabbed the sheets behind his head with his free hand. His long limbs were so sexy, sweaty, tensing as the sensation built in Lance. Keith ran his hand up to Lance’s waist and gripped there, the tight muscle pulsing even as his cock did. Was Lance that close, too?

Keith increased his speed, but not his power, using the friction of his strokes and his hand to see if he could shock Lance into orgasm.

It worked.

A few thrusts later and Lance came, release spasming through his body, his shoulders driven back into the mattress as he bucked up. Keith kept thrusting to help Lance ride it out, but the sight and smell and pressure combined drove him to his own climax, and he buried himself in Lance as he came, his restraint forgotten in the heat of the moment. They jerked a few times against each other, the rhythm wrong, their bodies spending the last throes of energy.

When Keith realized, he slipped out as slowly as he could, knowing he would probably leave Lance sore despite his best efforts not to.

“Sorry, I—”

“Dude, don’t be,” Lance gasped out, hand on his forehead. “That was…I mean, not what I expected it’d feel like, but…damn.”

Keith looked down at the mess they’d made between the two of them, the lube too slick on his skin, and nodded to the shower. “Can I, uh…”

“What? Oh, yeah. I’ll clean up after.”

“Just come in with, it’ll save on water.”

“I don’t think I can go again…,” Lance said, a worried frown tugging at his lips.

“No, I didn’t mean…just to clean up.”

“O-Oh,yeah, sure.”

Despite Lance’s words, no sooner had Keith cleaned off than he felt hands sneak around his waist, and then Lance was on his knees, doing what Keith knew he did very very well. Though Keith stood above him, Lance was in control, pushing Keith back against the wall and keeping one hand on his ass as he damn near hoovered his orgasm out of him.

“I…fuck,” Keith said, trying to recover as Lance nonchalantly washed up, as though that hadn’t just happened, “I thought you said you couldn’t go again.”

“That didn’t mean you couldn’t,” Lance said.

“No, I meant, _that_ ,” he said, and gestured down. Lance shrugged, grinning.

“Guess I have another one in me after all.”

Keith got on his knees and returned the favor.

By the time they managed to get clothes on again, it was all they could do to lay back on the bed, exhausted.

“Feeling better?” Keith asked, and Lance nodded, looking up at the ceiling.

“Yeah,” Lance started, but stopped, so long that Keith thought he might have fallen asleep. But then Lance turned, propping himself up on an elbow, looking into Keith’s eyes. “I feel really lucky to have found someone like you, Keith.”

And then he kissed him, soft, lips taking their time exploring Keith’s. It was a romantic kiss if Keith ever had one, and all at once it sent shivers through his body and rocks into the pit of his stomach.

The shine in Lance’s eyes when he broke the kiss only made it worse, and Keith sat up on the edge of the bed.

“Look, Lance…I don’t want to hurt you…”

“You didn’t hurt me,” Lance started, but a look from Keith made him sit up too.

“That’s not what I mean. It’s just…I’m leaving with the Blades, you know, and I just don’t want you to get attached.”

Keith wasn’t sure what he’d expected—grudging resignation, or tearful understanding, maybe—but what he got was a cold stare.

“You’re worried about me getting attached?”

“Well, I…,” Keith started, immediately defensive. “It just felt like you might have feelings for me.”

“Of course I have feelings for you, Keith. I wouldn’t be having sex with you otherwise,” Lance said, and clasped his hands between his knees. Keith sat, stunned. “I’m not like you, or Allura—I can’t just have sex with whoever. Only the people I care about.”

“I mean, we can’t eith—”

Lance wasn’t done.

“But that doesn’t mean I want to get married, y’know? I can’t help how I feel, but I don’t feel like I should keep getting punished just because I happen to love you guys.”

There it was, that word that Keith spent much of his life trying to avoid. Love meant connections, ties. Someone who’d be hurt if you never returned, even when your soul was calling for you to serve a greater purpose. Shiro knew, and Allura did, too, though they had their own reasons. Physical care was one thing, but that deep bond…that, for Keith, was to be avoided at all costs.

But maybe he was too late. Even he’d admit that he cared deeply for the paladins, each in their own way. Wasn’t that a kind of love, too? Is that what Lance meant?

Lance glanced sidelong at Keith, frustration almost eclipsing the hurt in his eyes.

No, Lance meant love with the capital letter, but he’d said “you guys.” So he loved both Keith and Allura? But he didn’t want to get married?

“What…are you saying, then?”

“I just…I love you, and Allura, but you both push me away. I’m not asking you to love only me, forever…or any commitment, really. I just need to know that you care for me, too.”

The last part he choked out, looking away to catch his composure.

And Keith realized that he and Allura had both miscalculated.

It wasn’t that Lance was in too deep, that he couldn’t have sex without falling in love, without trying to bind them to him…no. It was that Lance was in love, deeply, with everyone. That he only gave of himself when he treasured that person, and with a personality that found the good in everyone, it meant he loved often. But loving that deeply without the promise of commitment, giving that much emotional energy so freely to so many others…that was incomprehensible to Keith, and probably to Allura, too.

Maybe it was they who wanted that deep commitment, not Lance.

All Lance wanted to know was that he was loved in return; loved for who he was.

Keith wrapped Lance up in a hug, bringing his head into Keith’s chest. Lance snuck his hands around Keith, too, as best he could.

“Of course I care,” Keith said, his words breaking into Lance’s hair. “And she does, too. I…we…just didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Lance nodded into Keith’s shirt, and they stayed that way for a long moment.

When they finally broke apart, Lance dabbed at the corner of his eye. “I…feel stupid for getting upset.”

“No, it’s…my fault, and hers. We all just should have talked it through first.”

“Well, you and I tried, at least.”

“I’m pretty sure I just said ‘I want you,’ and kissed you,” Keith said, and Lance glared.

“Yeah, well, we said other words too. Probably.”

“Mm-hm.”

“We tooootally talked it over.”

“Sure.”

“Dammit, Keith.” Lance checked him with his shoulder, then turned to catch his lips in a kiss. “Thanks.”

Keith, for once, smiled. “No, thank you.”

 

* * *

 

The bright overhead lights flicked on in the training arena, and the training robot slowed to a stop as Pidge straightened, sweat pouring down her face. She’d been desperate to get the anxiety out, thinking about Shiro’s talk over and over again in her mind. It had been about what she’d said, wasn’t it? He’d looked so shocked, but…she didn’t think it had been that big a deal, right? She hadn’t told Shiro anything about what Lance had said, so it must have been about her relationship with Hunk…but he’d seemed so supportive.

She’d been able to push the thoughts away during the mission, but as soon as the Green Lion’s paws touched the hangar floor they all flooded back, and she’d stormed here, near ignoring Hunk when he’d asked her what was wrong. That had been unfair, but so was what Shiro had said. And with so much pent-up energy, she’d be useless until she could get it out. She didn’t want to snap at anyone.

So she’d trained and trained, fighting the robot for the last however-long, letting her limbs do the yelling she longed to. They were sore already, the overuse setting in, as she turned to see who had stopped the simulation.

“Hunk said you’d been in here for hours,” Lance said, holding a glass. “I made you a protein shake…I think.”

“You think?” She said, the exhaustion dulling her bite. Good.

“It…might just be milk and food goo,” he said. “But it actually tastes pretty good, once you get used to the texture.”

“Wow, thanks. You’re a real salesman,” she said, but took it anyway. It was like runny play-doh, and though she nearly spit it out, she trusted Lance and kept drinking. It had some spice to it, almost curry-like. Something in the milk must be reacting with the goo to give it that flavor…she’d have to investigate later.

She hoped it wouldn’t give her a stomachache.

“He’s worried about you, y’know.”

“Well, yeah, he should be.”

“He should?”

Pidge had thought it all over in the last few hours. Though Shiro had said she didn’t have to come clean, she knew it was time. She owed it to the other paladins, to herself. To Hunk, who had supported her no matter what. She’d apologize to him later, though she knew he’d let her off easy. In fact, he probably wouldn’t even think her outburst was a big deal, but it hadn’t been fair to him. None of it had been fair to him. He deserved better, and it was time for her to step up to the plate.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

“HE’S WHAT?!” Lance’s yell echoed off the training-room walls, another area of the ship personally soundproofed by Pidge after Keith spent night after night yelling as he trained the insomnia away. It was what gave her the idea for the soundproofing tech in the first place. Sometimes, when she knew no one else was around, she’d come in here and scream herself hoarse.

But now, she just shrugged.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before…we didn’t tell anyone, but…I told Shiro this morning, and figured it was time everyone else knew, too.”

His jaw was still on the floor.

“Since when?”

“It’s been months,” Pidge said, taking another sip. Was that a mustard aftertaste? “I didn’t want to tell everyone because I didn’t want it to be an issue, but…looks like it became one anyway.”

“Oh, Pidge…you mean this morning?”

She nodded.

“I don’t think…that was about you,” Lance started, rubbing the nape of his neck. It was one of his tells, something he always did when he was nervous. “I’ve…had a couple of interesting days.”

“Lance, I’m sorry, but…,” and she steeled herself, hoping she wasn’t about to fuck everything up between them, “…I know. About you, and Allura.”

“You do?” Lance said, his brows furrowed.

“Please don’t be mad at Hunk!” She said, dropping the shake as she leapt out to grab Lance’s arm. “I was there when he let you in. I couldn’t leave, and so he hid me under the sheets, and he tried to talk to you elsewhere but you told him and I couldn’t help but overhear, I’m so sorry…”

“You…were there?” Lance said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Under the sheets?”

“I was…um. Naked.” It seemed less revealing than telling him she was cuffed, but it was a good enough excuse.

When he was silent, she snuck a peek at his face.

And found him trying as hard as he could to suppress his laughter.

“Don’t you fucking da—”

“I’m _sorry_ ,” he said, cracking up. “Oh, Pidge, I’m so sorry. I…came in…and you…and I had no _idea_.” He let his laughter loose, good-natured guffaws reverberating as he hugged her to him.

“You aren’t mad?” She mumbled into his jacket, and he ruffled her hair. He was maybe the only person she let do that, and only sometimes, though she figured he’d earned it this time.

“How could I be? It’s all…so absurd. Besides, you’re one of my friends, too. I would have told you in person, if I’d known it wouldn’t be weird.”

She peered up at him. “It might be a little weird.”

He considered it. “Fair.”

She wormed out of his hug and held him at arm’s length. “You seem better.”

“I…worked some things out. Or I’m trying to.”

“What happened to your chin?”

He gingerly touched the bandaid. “I cut myself, shaving.”

“Oh,” she said. They stood awkwardly in the silence, until he play-punched her shoulder.

“So, you and Hunk, huh? Who made the first move?”

She had to think about it.

“You have to think about it?!”

“I…look, it sort of…we were just spending so much time together, and then…well, I guess I did.” Thinking back on it, it had been a slow burn for her, but Hunk had realized it much sooner, and bided his time until she was ready. And then…well. Lance didn’t need to know about that.

“Good for you. He’s a lucky guy.”

Pidge wasn’t sure she knew what to say to that, but it made her happy that Lance thought so highly of her. She elbowed him and he returned fire, catching her just off balance enough that she tipped, and though she tried to straighten, her foot slipped out from under her and she fell hard on her ass. Her hand smooshed into something cold and wet, and she remembered what happened.

“Ah! Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay, there’s more where that came from,” he said. “If you liked it, that is.”

“Yeah…it grew on me. You’re sure this isn’t gonna make us sick?”

“No promises,” he said, helping her up. She stepped gingerly away from the mess, and stretched, her muscles screaming at her.

“Ugh, I’m exhausted.”

“I bet. Go clean up—I’ll let Hunk know you’re okay.”

“Nah, I’ll go—I snapped at him this morning. I should apologize.”

“Ohh, that’s so sweet! Are you two gonna kiss and mak—” was all he managed to get out, before she pushed him into the spilled shake, toppling him. She ran out of the room, knowing he’d never catch her.

And grinning all the way.

 

* * *

 

Allura had meant to go to Lance right after they’d run the practice mission. Everything had felt so normal, in their Lions, as Voltron. They’d synched just fine, opening their hearts to each other as they might any other day. She’d planned to take that energy and march to Lance’s room, to talk it out like the friends she knew they were.

But then…she’d been so sweaty, she’d wanted to shower. And it wouldn’t do for her hair to be a mess, and her only clean clothes were her sweats or her formal dress, so she’d needed to do a wash, and even then it’d be hours until it dried, so maybe she should just go in her sweats? But what if he thought she wasn’t taking it seriously enough?

So she dug out some outfits she rarely wore, things she’d just slightly outgrown, though she could shrink to fit them, though they were so out of style…but would he notice?

And thus she found herself, hours later, lying on her back, surrounded by most of the contents of her wardrobe. Procrastinating.

Starving.

“Well, first things first,” she said, pushing off the bed, scattering the mice that had crept in at some point to nap in the crook of her arm. How long had they been there? How long had she? Had she fallen asleep?

No.

She’d just stared, and thought.

Shiro’s talk had been about what she’d told him that morning, she was sure, even though she’d left Keith and Lance’s little interlude out of it. Even without that whole angle, it was still a mess, and she was sure that to Shiro, it looked like a mess of her own creation. He hadn’t seem upset when she’d left that morning—he’d almost wanted her to stay—but maybe the thoughts had percolated long enough for him to conclude that this mess might be enough to threaten this, and future, missions.

It was a talk she’d needed to hear, but it was a hard pill to swallow all the same.

Her performance had improved, but it hadn’t been stellar. She was in control, but only because she was so careful to be, relying on the diplomatic stoicism her father had instilled from an early age. She knew what it was like to pilot the Blue Lion when they were perfectly in sync, when her heart was truly open, and free—that’s when it responded, when they both soared. When she was protected, guarded…well, Blue understood, but wasn’t happy about it. She wouldn’t be able to fake it for long.

But so much rode on their missions. Maybe she should have thought it all through that first night, when Lance had come to her door, all boyish smiles and cocky swagger, and earnest desire in his eyes. That’s what had won her, ultimately; the promise of fun, the care, as best he knew how to show it. How could she have closed the door on that?

She’d let herself get carried away, and despite her best efforts to keep things casual, she’d hurt him. She should have closed the door, but she couldn’t. She should have fallen in love, but she couldn’t. She needed to talk to him, but she felt frozen. She was stuck in an in-between, without a right answer.

And she was ravenous.

So she made her way to the mess, the halls empty, though the lights were on in the training room. It was late, who still had the energy for that? Shiro, maybe, though he’d sure worn her out the night before.

No wonder she was so tired.

And a little irritated. He hadn’t called her out, exactly, but he’d been involved, too. They’d all been involved, save Pidge and Hunk. Would Pidge think it had just been Shiro finding out about Allura and Lance?

Her thoughts had wound her up to the point that she’d stomped into the mess and grabbed a plate before she noticed she wasn’t alone.

“Hey, Allura…everything okay?”

She whirled to see Hunk in the middle of the prep kitchen, ingredients and messy bowls strewn around him. He wore an apron, but it didn’t seem to matter. His arms were covered near to the shoulders, streaks of ingredients on his cheeks.

But before him, steaming in their tins, were twelve fluffy brown things that looked delicious.

“Hungry…?” He asked, and she nodded, nearly lunging for whatever they were. He meeped and swatted her hand, and when she glared, he pointed at a wire rack where more were lined up. “These are hot! Those ones are cool enough to eat.”

She swiped one and tested it with a finger, the warm, solid-ish sponge a totally unfamiliar sensation.

“Are these edible?”

“Are they…,” he looked affronted, “Yeah, they’re muffins.”

She shoved the thing into her mouth, biting off most of the top bit that pillowed out from the wrapper. The rough texture hid a chewy interior, bursting with flavors she’d never experienced.

It was awful, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.

Instead, she chewed, and gave him a thumbs up. He grinned. “There’s more where that came from.”

“I couldn’t. After all, I’m sure the other paladins will want this…Earth food.”

“Muffins.”

“Right! Muffins.” She set it down gingerly, and went to get some food goo to wash down the horrendous taste, when she heard him sigh. “Am I wrong?”

“No, I mean, I hope not, but…I don’t know if anyone’ll want any,” he said.

She drew up a chair, plopping down across from him. “Hunk, no one has ever refused your food…on the contrary, they’re usually beating down the door to get here first.” And beating each other—Pidge had given Lance a spectacular black eye the last time Hunk had made something called “nachos.” She’d sworn up and down that it had been an accident, but Allura had seen the whole thing, and privately swore to never get between Pidge and her food.

“Well, that’s just it, right?” Hunk gestured with his spatula. “Where is everybody? You’re the only one I’ve seen all day.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s like…,” he crossed his arms, not minding that it made even more of a mess. He seemed so comfortable covered in baking debris, in the same way Lance had seemed without anything on, like this was his natural state. He’d said before that baking was stress relief, calming, and Allura could see how it could be true. Working the dough, kneading and rolling, the tactile sensations of the flour and water and rolling pin, and the deep satisfaction that stemmed from producing something physical, tangible. But Allura couldn’t stand the mess, or even the idea of setting out to make the mess. She’d rather unwind in the baths, or, well, in bed. Though it turns out the latter had not ultimately been a stress reliever. “Everyone just seems out of sorts with each other.”

“I…know what you mean,” she said, and sighed. “I think it’s my fault.”

“It…is? How could it be your fault, Allura?” He said, standing a little straighter, avoiding her eyes with his own wide open.

“I take it you’ve heard, then.”

“Heard what?” He squatted to busy himself with the oven.

“You’re a terrible liar, Hunk. Which is a good thing, I suppose.” She sighed. “I wanted to talk to Lance, but I haven’t seen him around all day.”

“If you’re looking for Lance, he’s probably taking a shower,” Pidge said, almost creaking as she walked. Hunk shot up and took a few steps before stopping short, and Pidge grimaced. “I’m sorry about earlier. I just needed to work some things out.”

“Hey, I know. You don’t need to—”

“I do. Accept it.”

“I…okay. But only because you’re telling me to.” He said, and took a quick look at Allura before busying himself with the oven. Sweat dripped down Pidge’s face, and the armor on her right leg was soiled with some sort of grayish-blue liquid.

“I’m off to take a shower first, but Hunk… I told Lance, too, just now.”

“You did?” He stood again, and Allura watched as he breathed a sigh of relief.

Something was going on here.

Something like…

“Wait,” she started, looking between them. Pidge shrugged as she grinned.

“I was going to tell you after I showered, and Keith and Coran, too, but here we are. Hunk and I are dating.”

Allura held out her arms, getting up from her chair and sweeping the sweaty Pidge into a hug that was readily returned. “I’m so pleased for the both of you!” She looked to Hunk and paused. “I…I might wait to hug you until you’ve, you know, cleaned up.”

“Rain check then, right.”

“Thanks, Allura. I’m sorry I kept it a secret for so long.” They broke apart, and Pidge dug out her glasses from the belt case she’d engineered for them. “I told Shiro this morning, and I guess…well, I thought he was happy for us, but he sounded pretty pissed at the meeting.”

“I think that was, ah, my fault.” Allura sighed, sitting back on her chair, and looking between them. “I’m assuming you also know?”

They shared a quick look—what was that about?—before Pidge replied. “I accidentally overheard…the story! Overheard the story, not…”

“That’s…ah. Well,” Allura said, putting her face in her hands, “it’s a small ship, apparently. But that’s all right. I should have expected…”

She sighed, and took a deep breath before looking back to Pidge. “I told Shiro my side of things this morning, and, well, I think I caught him by surprise, considering.”

“Considering?”

“Oh! Oh, nothing,” Allura said. She took a deep sip of food goo, the grease taste of muffin still in her mouth. Humans enjoyed that slimy, crumbly aftertaste? But there was Pidge, jamming one into her face, eyes rolling up in pleasure…was there any race so strange? “In any event, I don’t think it’s all your fault.”

“That’s…comforting, actually,” Pidge said, between mouthfuls. “Thanks, Allura.”

“I…anytime?”

“I’m in desperate need of a shower, too, so I’m gonna head out, but…it’ll all be all right. It’s gotta be, right? It’s us.” Pidge said, and whirled around to leave. “Don’t let Allura eat all these muffins now, Hunk! Gotta save some for the rest of us.”

“No need to worry, Pidge!”Allura called, but paled when she saw Hunk’s furrowed brow. “I’ve, uh, got great self control!”

“Yeah, but Hunk’s muffins are the best. See you later!” Pidge said, and trotted out of the room. Allura took another bite of the muffin to see if it would get Hunk’s watchful eye off her, and she smiled the whole way through the miserable experience so he wouldn’t catch on.

It wasn’t until he bent down to take out the next batch that she could wash it down with the goo. When she surfaced, he was carefully removing the muffins and placing them on the wire rack.

“Why must you move them?”

“It helps them cool, and then I can use the tin for more batches,” he said, gesturing to a large bowl. “I’ve got about half a batch of dough left.”

“I…Hunk, how many did you make?”

“Four dozen? They go pretty quickly. Turns out, being a paladin makes you burn, like, a million calories a day.”

Allura and Coran had been introduced to the concept of calories one day by Keith and Shiro, who’d been trying to customize their optimal food-to-exercise ratio. They’d asked Pidge to try and figure out the caloric content of the various types of goo, to which her first response had been, “why don’t you just ask Allura?” But she’d had no idea what an idea of a calorie even was, and once she learned, why it was necessary to count them.

It was then they’d found out how truly an incredible, high-precision system the Altean metabolism is.

“A million? Seems a bit…”

“Hyperbole.”

“Oh, of course.” She sighed, and watched him place funny little rounds of folded paper into the tins, spooning the batter in until each one was only midway full. His precision with the slop was incredible, leaving the tin itself spotless though everything else was covered in some sort of powder or liquid. Allura felt the wave of heat when he opened the oven, tilting the tin back so they kept even as he slipped the tray into the firey depths. Again, humans, risking so much to make their food when all the nutrition they needed was available in semi-solid form.

Hunk set the mitts he’d been using down to one side, and busied his hands with piling various implements in a dirty dish.

“Y’know, when Pidge and I first got together, and she’d asked me to keep it a secret, I was so…hurt. I wanted to shout it from the rooftops, or, well, ship system—how lucky I was that someone as wonderful as her thought I was cool, like, at all. And like, I got it, that she was worried that one of us would have to stop being a paladin or whatever, or that Shiro or you, even, might tell us to break up, but…I just didn’t understand how any one of you would be upset by something so great.

“But I thought about it a lot, and realized that it wasn’t because she was ashamed of me, or that she was all that afraid of Shiro, or, well, you, but she wanted to keep me to herself. And once I figured that out…it was the best feeling in the world.”

He swept a heaping pile of dough and debris from the countertop into his hand and dropped it into the trash chute. “Pidge and I share a lot of interests, and I love her, I really do, but at the beginning, we had to learn how to communicate in ways that worked for the other person.”

“You’re telling me I need to figure out how to communicate.”

“Actually, I think you’re pretty good at it. You’ve just got an audience who happens to be bad at listening.”

Allura froze.

She’d never thought of it that way.

“What Lance thinks he hears and what you’re saying are two different things. Especially if he’s already emotional.” Hunk shrugged. “I know you didn’t ask my advice, but…”

“No, thank you, it’s what I needed to hear.” She sprung up, pushing away from the counter. “Thanks, Hunk. I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime, Allura…oh, and take a muffin for the road.”

“Oh, I couldn’t…”

“Or just admit to me that you can’t stand them.” He grinned when she cringed. “Having different preferences isn’t a fault, Allura. It’s natural. He knows that, too.”

“He just needs to know he’s special.”

“Actually…yeah. Sounds like you didn’t need my advice.”

“Oh, I needed it. I’ve just gotten to this part before.” She collected her dishes and the half-eaten muffin, and took them to the wash station, dumping the remaining food down a trash chute first. “Turns out I don’t actually enjoy muffins, Hunk. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. There are plenty of people that do.”

They met eyes, and Allura’s heart warmed. Hunk was incredible. She didn’t spend enough time with him, but when she did, it was like he was able to see into her heart, to read the manual, figure out what was wrong, and fix her up before sending her on her way.

She hoped he had someone who would do that for him.

“Thanks again, Hunk. And if you ever need to talk…”

“…I’ll go to Shiro,” he said, his face solemn until he’d seen her shock, then he winked. “Nah, I’ll let you know. See you tomorrow, Allura.”

“Y-yeah. See you.”

The door closed behind her, and she burst into tears.

 

* * *

 

Lance hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep until the knock woke him up. He slid off the bed and made it halfway to the door before he realized he was still buck-naked, so he shrugged on the nearest pair of sweatpants before answering.

And there, in sweatpants of her own, stood Allura.

“I’m…sorry to bother you so late,” she said, holding her elbows before her. He blinked away the sleep as best he could.

“What time is it?”

“Late…I didn’t look. I know…I mean, you might not…ugh,” she said, resettling her arms after tucking a loose piece of hair behind her pointed ears. “I know I’ve no right to ask, but may I come in?”

“Yeah,” he said, opening the door enough to let her in. She slipped by and he took a deep breath, appreciating again how her scent relaxed and enticed him all at once.

He’d barely shut the door and turned when she was in front of him.

“Lance, I’m so sorry. I realize what a fool I’ve been, and I don’t want to die tomorrow with you still mad at me.”

That woke him up.

“Die? What?”

She bit her lip and looked at him. “I’m having trouble with Blue, and anything could happen on this mission tomorrow…”

“We’re not even supposed to encounter Galra, if everything goes well!” He reached out to her, hesitating only a second before putting a hand on her shoulder. “I…wow, there’s a lot to unpack. First, I’m not mad. I never was.”

She stared at him, and he thought that back. “Okay, fine. Maybe for a bit, but I was mostly hurt, and…confused. But I’m not mad now. I’m actually glad you’re here…wanna sit?”

She nodded, and walked over to the bed. He joined her, sitting next to her, unused to seeing her curled in on herself.

“So you aren’t going to die, none of us are, and I’m not mad. What was the other part?”

“That I’ve been a fool.”

“Right. I take it you mean about…all this?” He waved his finger between the two of them.

She shook her head, a few strands of hair coming loose from her bun to frame her face. She pushed them back.

“I’m not sorry for what happened between us—on the contrary, it made me really happy, Lance.” She clasped her hands together in her lap, and didn’t quite look at him. “You’ve never hid how you felt for me, but you never made it feel like I owed you anything, either. You were just genuinely interested in me, for me, and I mistook it to think you were interested in just anyone…and mistook it again to think you were interested in me, alone.”

She turned to him this time, her eyes blue-veined in the harsh ship light. “I was wrong, wasn’t I?”

“I…I mean, yeah,” he started, “but I’m not sure I knew those were wrong until earlier today either, Allura. It’s been a busy week.”

“You can say that again,” she said, and he leaned back, his hands behind him. He caught her catching a glimpse and looking away, which brought a little grin to his face.

“I guess I’ve…learned a lot about myself. From both you, and Keith.”

He’d thought about what he was going to say in this talk, as he knew they’d have one. They’d needed to. This morning’s practice was fine and good, but Lance knew that forming Voltron would be tough if they didn’t iron out what happened, and soon. He’d realized he’d misinterpreted Allura, that he’d heard her words as platitudes instead of the genuine message they contained. And from her sagging shoulders and tired eyes, it looked like she’d had the same kind of day he’d had.

Well…

It was long past time to turn this whole thing around.

“Allura, I need to come clean. After we talked last I kiiiinda slept with Keith.”

He braced for her reaction, but none came.

“I know,” she started. “Alteans have a good sense of smell, and he came to give me a piece of his mind.”

“He…did?”

“He did. He was very upset on your behalf. And…well, he wasn’t entirely wrong, but he went about it in a way that was very…”

“Keith?”

“…Yes. Very Keith.” Allura turned to Lance. “There’s something I need to tell you, too.”

His heart sank. “You slept with Keith?”

“Keith? No,” she met his eyes for a brief second, then looked away. “Shiro.”

“You _what_?” He said, and she recoiled.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…you and I had fought, and Keith came in and told me off, and I just needed some advice and stress relief…”

“So you went to Shiro.”

She clenched her hands in the fabric of her sweatpants. “Yes.”

His heart beat in his ears, even as he knew it was unfair. He’d just admitted himself that he’d slept with someone else, and now he was grilling her, even though she was well within her right? Though she hadn’t even crossed his mind when Keith was there, in front of him. Inside him.

And that had just been hours ago.

“Arrrgh,” he said, ruffling his hair. “It’s just…I’m just so bad at this.”

“Bad at what?”

“At talking things through. Communicating. Boundaries.”

She started to say something, but he cut her off. “I know you were well within your rights to sleep with Shiro, and honestly, I’m okay with it.” She raised an eyebrow, and he continued. “No, I know I don’t sound like it, but…listen, Allura, where I come from I was taught that you pursue someone, become a couple with them, and stay with them ‘til death do you part. And I’d just been operating on that for so long that…well, I hadn’t really realized there was another way.”

He turned to face her fully and took her hands in his, prying them off her sweatpants. “You and Keith are so good at just having casual sex, but for me, even if it’s uncommitted sex, it isn’t going to be casual.”

“I know,” Allura said, her hands tightening in his. “Lance, I don’t think you can help but to love who you’re with, and that’s all right…it’s wonderful, really. I was just…unprepared. I thought you wanted more of me than I can give right now…than I may ever be willing to give.”

Those last words stung a little, but he’d opened the floor to honesty, and he’d rather know the truth even if it wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear. “Even if…even if we don’t ever become a couple…would you still be interested in being with me? On occasion?”

Her smile lit up her face, erasing the tension and the fatigue. She really was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and he made a point of remembering the beautiful women he’d met. And what he liked most about her were moments like these, when she shed her princess exterior and her paladin armor and just became the young woman she always was, free of worry and burden for even a blissful second. Excited and passionate about the world, like he was. He knew why Blue picked her, it was obvious. She radiated joy.

“Yes, of course. I’d love that.”

She turned her face to him and he kissed her, chaste, the seal on a new promise to each other. She slipped her hands out of his and put them on his cheeks, sliding them down, her thumb brushing his bandaid and jerking away. She started to pull back but he deepened the kiss, his hands around her waist. After his interlude with Keith earlier he’d thought there’d be no way he’d be ready to go again, but feeling the warmth of her waist under her thin t-shirt, seeing her pink hip stripes peek through the hem and neckline, her soft fingers in his hair…it was plenty to get him going.

“Allura…,” he started, sneaking a thumb under her shirt, across her ribs…

…And nearly straight into her jaw as the alarm blared throughout the castle.

“Paladins! Gather on the bridge—our plans have changed. You need to be briefed and in your Lions in the next 10 minutes.”

“Quizznak,” Allura muttered, and he laughed.

“It’s okay, we can pick this up after…when we’re back, alive and well.” He kissed her again, before sliding off the bed and holding out his hand. “C’mon.”

She took it and he pulled her in, hugging her tight. “You’ve got this, Allura. I have faith in you. We all do.”

“Lance…”

He started to let her go, and then an idea popped into his head. He snaked his hand down to her waist, then her ass, as he got close to her ear. “In fact, I’ve got just the incentive for you to come back alive.”

And then he whispered his plan.

She snagged a kiss as he pulled away, and she kept his face in her hands, her grin feral.

“Let’s go kick some ass.”

 

* * *

 

The paladins and Keith stood before the console, accompanied by a small group of rebel leaders and Blades. Shiro, helmet under his arm, turned from the console to meet the hastily assembled crowd.

“We’ve just heard from the rebels that the security patrols have changed, thanks to that run-in we had a few days ago. We now have to get through the gap in the next 20 minutes, at which point we’ll have two hours to retrieve the deposit. At that point, we’ll have another window to get everyone out and get back here. We’ll be flying the same formation we’ve practiced all week. Any questions?”

No one spoke, no one moved. All eyes were glued to Shiro.

“Great. Paladins, to your Lions. Keith, coordinate the Blades and the rebels to meet at the rendezvous. And everyone, good luck. Stay safe out there, and we’ll see you all back here in three hours. Move out!”

And they did. No clasped hands, no pats on the back. The time for all that was behind, and before them.

For now, they were paladins.

And they were prepared to give everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's getting better...or is it?? As always, thanks for reading! The next chapter is a bit short so I might post it early - if so, it'll probably be on Wednesday. Remember to subscribe so you don't miss an update! Have a great week, and I can't wait to hear your reactions... ;)


	7. Lionheart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it all goes wrong, but Shiro realizes it’s been going right this whole time.

* * *

 

It had mostly gone according to plan.

They’d avoided the first patrol with time and space to spare—not a challenge for the Lions, but a real danger for the rebel ship, bloated as it was with industrial mining equipment. Blades scouts covered the front and rear, making sure the paladins could focus on guiding everyone in safely.

The planet itself was small, more of a glorified asteroid, but the silver-green flecked rock made it clear it held more than just space dust. The Lions took up their various posts as they’d practiced, though Hunk had to adjust as the spire he’d found had crumbled under Yellow’s weight. The Olkari set up quickly, and with only a few minutes spent adjusting the equipment for the new gravity and atmosphere, they were up and drilling well within the time allotted on their tight schedule.

Which was good, as time ended up being shorter than any of them had anticipated.

An hour after drilling commenced, Keith came over the paladin’s frequency. “Shiro? Galra activity detected, and it looks like more than just a patrol.”

“An entire fleet?”

“No…maybe a small force. Looks like they were prepared for someone to try this, but not Voltron. I think you could take them.”

“How much time do we have?”

“Twenty minutes, at best. We’ll do what we can here.”

“No, don’t give away your position. I’ll tell the Olkari to wrap up with whatever they have, and Voltron’ll take care of the Galra. Once the Olkari are in the air, escort them back to the rendezvous, and we’ll catch a portal back home. Got it?”

“Loud and clear, Shiro. Over and out.”

The Black Lion reoriented, her eyes skyward. “Team, listen up. Lance, tell the Olkari to wrap up and take off asap, then return to Blue.”

“On it.”

“Pidge, you too—finish up your data collecting and get back to Green asap.”

“Already moving.”

“Meet up with us in the air and fall into formation—we’re going to have company here in a few, and I’d like them to find Voltron already waiting.”

“Roger that.”

“Right behind you, Shiro.”

With verbal confirmation from all paladins, Shiro and Black leapt from their perch into the air, finding a spot just outside the weak gravity to watch and wait.

He was joined after by Allura and Hunk, with Pidge a little later. They were still waiting on Lance when Keith came back over the radio.

“Shiro, they’re picking up the pace. What’s your ETA?”

“We’re almost ready—Lance, what’s going on?”

“I-I’m on my way. An engineer got trapped under one of the drills as they were trying to pull it away.”

“Get here as fast as you can.”

“I’m just supervising the last of the—”

“Lance, now. The Blades can take over—Keith, have one ship trade out with Red.”

“We’re about to be kept busy—”

“We’re forming Voltron now,” Shiro said, and saw a red streak shoot up from the asteroid. “Paladins, on me, slow. Accelerate as Lance approaches so we can form up as soon as he gets here. Keith, let us know as soon as the rebels are clear.”

“Roger that,” Keith said, and Lance and Red caught up to Allura, then found his place in formation.

“Form Voltron!” Shiro shouted, and increased thrusters to full, hoping to use the transformation to propel them just within striking range of the Galra, so they could use the momentum as part of their first attack.

But they kept flying.

“C’mon, team!” He yelled.

“I’m trying!”

“What’s going on?”

“I can’t…damn!” Shiro said, pulling out of the his run. “Loop around and regroup. Remember, we’re a team—we can only do this if we settle our feelings and trust each other. We’re all that stands between the universe and the Galra—let’s keep it that way.”

He came around for another try, keeping steady until the other paladins had rejoined the formation, and took a deep breath, trying to find that note, that perfect pitch that was Black’s rumbling purr…or challenging roar. But so much tugged at him, the other paladin’s feelings, the mess they’d been in.

_Oh_.

No.

It wasn’t the other paladins. It had nothing to do with them—he could feel their bonds stretching, almost stronger than ever between Lance and Allura, Lance and Pidge, Allura and Hunk. Even Allura and Pidge. They had formed a net, and none were connected with him.

He was the mess.

He’d felt blindsided all day, all night. He’d stayed up looking at battle plans, refining their tactics, studying their drills, pretending like he hadn’t seen the hurt in Keith’s face when he’d shut him out. Like he hadn’t seen Pidge storm off after the last drill.

Like he hadn’t sent Allura back into the arms of her other lover.

But they’d taken his words to heart and sorted it out between themselves. His leadership had worked, belated and clunky as it’d been. The only one who hadn’t figured his shit out was him, and though he could ignore it in the Castle, here in the vastness of space, his insecurities were laid bare.

To himself, and to his team.

He slowed, and his team, bless them, matched his speed.

“Shiro? What’s wrong?

“Everything okay?”

“I…thanks, Allura, Hunk. I’m…fi—,” he started, then cut himself off. Piloting the Lions, and forming Voltron, required that brutal honesty between them. “I’m sorry.”

“What? Why?” Pidge said, sharp, impatient. His heart warmed. Even though he’d been so hard on her when he’d come down on them, in a way that had been totally unfair to her, she’d left that in the Castle. When she set foot in Green, she was committed until the end, focused. She’d always kept Hunk in line when he’d started to get nervous—how had he never seen their relationship before?

Because it had never occurred to him that they’d have feelings for each other, any of them. Because he’d locked away his own feelings, hormonal or otherwise, so far down in the wake of everything that’d happened. He’d failed his team.

“Yeah, what are you sorry for? We’ll get it on the next run. We always do,” Lance said, earnest voice warm over the intercom. In battle, Shiro ignored the video feed, relying on their voices as he took in the immense amount of data on his screen. But now he took a moment to see Lance, smile plastered on his face even as they rushed into battle; Lance, who never for a second doubted this team.

And Shiro realized then, he’d been thinking about it all wrong.

He hadn’t prepared his team for their emotions and hormones, sure. That was on him. But they’d gone and figured it out on their own, working together to sort out their issues, to learn how to communicate. They’d solidified the team, and he realized he shouldn’t be surprised that they were stronger now than they’d ever been.

They were still his team, and everything he believed them to be.

He just needed to trust in them as much as they did in him.

And, there. He felt the warmth in his heart, the thrum, the howling wind and beating sun and silty mud and crashing waves, the thrill of the hunt. Black, speaking to him, leader to leader and heart to heart.

“Thanks, team,” he said, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before throwing his thrusters into high gear. “Form Voltron!”

And the magic took over, combining their disparate pieces into a form more powerful than the sum of its parts. Voltron, the man-machine, standing tall. A team, bound by passion. Unbreakable.

Ready to defend the universe.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the mission had passed without issue: The Galra were summarily vanquished, and the entire coalition got away with few injuries and a mostly full payload. Shiro asked to postpone their debrief, so the Olkari and Blades could tend to their wounded.

The active paladins he kept on the bridge, sending even Coran away to oversee the offloading of both combatants and materials. He stood before his team, taking a moment to look each one in the eye.

“I know I’ve been hard on you all over the past few days, but today, that training paid off. You made the right calls…and you showed me what an incredible team we have piloting the Lions. Each one of you has bonded to your Lion so well—Lance and Allura, you’ve both made incredible progress in such a short amount of time.

“But more than that, you’ve all forged deep bonds with each other…and today you reminded me that it’s the bonds between us that matter most of all.” He let out a deep sigh, and turned his helmet in his hands, looking down into the visor before turning his attention back to the team. “When some of you came to me this week for advice, it…surprised me, and I realized I didn’t prepare you for any of this. In the Garrison we get training about how physical needs can be addressed in long-term, close-quarter missions with or without teammates, and I should have passed that on to you. I will, starting now, but…”

He smiled, and again met them all in the eye. None wavered, none shrank back. This team was confident in themselves, and in the bonds they’d forged. He’d have to address this with Keith later, but Keith would be leaving soon, on a mission that could take months. He’d be out of the equation for a while, but Shiro had no doubt that Keith was still a part of the emotional ecosystem they’d built over the last week. Hell, over the last year.

After all, it’d been Keith who…

Anyway.

“…You all have been able to figure out many of these things without my direction, and though you shouldn’t have had to, I’m glad you were able to. You’re the best team I could ask for, and we can only get better from here.”

“Are you done? Can we hug yet?” Hunk asked, which elicited a deep chuckle from Shiro.

“Just one last thing…please use protection.”

“Shiro!”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Like, armor?”

“I’ve got condoms,” Lance said, and promptly turned red as the room quieted. “I just mean…if anyone needs.”

“I’ve got some too. Never hesitate to ask.” Shiro said, and laughed again at Pidge’s face. “Still want that hug, Hunk?”

“I mean, the moment is a little…ah, what the hell. Post-mission hug!” He met Shiro and clasped him, thumping him over the back, and other hands around them.

They would all be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, but an important one!! Hope you all enjoyed ;)
> 
> I'll be posting the remaining chapters every Sunday, and then I'll be taking June off. in July, I'll start posting the sequel novella, which will hopefully give me enough time to get a head-start on All Cats 2.
> 
> Thanks for all the support, and get ready for next week!!


	8. The Lions Share

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk and Pidge reaffirm life the hard way; Keith and Shiro have an amicable parting of the ways; Lance and Allura have a surprise for Keith; Lance’s fears give way to connection; and Allura proposes a partnership that Shiro finds satisfactory.

* * *

 

Hunk barely waited until the others had left the room.

He swept Pidge up and kissed her, pushing back until she was against the back wall, stopping only when she was up on it, her legs around his waist. He held her in place with his hands and the friction of their bodies as she returned his kisses with equal fervor. He’d taken a few solid blows out there, some stray shots meant for another—her? Shiro? She couldn’t remember—but he’d always been watching their rear, making sure they’d gotten out of the conflict with everyone in one piece. Even when he was terrified he was patient, determined to keep everyone safe. And though they both knew Yellow was well-armored, she still felt every blow he took. Still, he stayed stoic on the field, the protector of the protectors.

Now, however, he was lust and youth; life, packaged into a man with one thing on his mind.

She tugged at his suit, knowing they were still on the bridge but not caring a damn bit. After all, everyone knew. Everyone except Coran, and…

“Hey, Shiro, is—whoa!” Keith said, as he strode into the room.

“Keith! Hey, how are you…oh,” Hunk said, realizing the situation a moment too late. Pidge squirmed out of his grip and sank awkwardly to the floor, straightening as best she could.

“Hey…sorry.”

“No, I, uh,” Keith said, taking a step back toward the door. Pidge put her arm out to stop him, nearly tripping over herself as she tried to get her head to stop spinning. She’d been caught up in quite a rush, and even though they’d brought the castle down on Olkari, she hadn’t quite gotten her land legs.

Or was it just the hormones?

“It’s okay. We wanted to tell you the next time we saw you…just, not quite like this.” Hunk took a step forward and she leaned into him. “We’re, uh, together.”

“You sure are,” Keith said, crossing his arms. “I’d hope so, after a kiss like that. I’d beat up a lot of guys for you, but for Hunk I might need backup.”

“Backup? Who would you get, Lance?”

“Are you kidding, Lance couldn’t hurt Hunk if his life depended on it. I’d call Shiro.”

“Shiro knows. And please don’t beat me up?”

Keith put his hands up. “Like I just said, no need. All purely hypothetical.” He turned to Pidge. “Unless there is a need?”

“You’ll be first to know,” she said, elbowing a solidly frowning Hunk. “But I think I can take care of myself.”

“Oh, that was never in question. It was just an offer.” Keith said, and looked around the room. “Where is everyone?”

“They all left to change after the group hug—I’m sure we’ll have another one later, y’know, in case you feel like you missed out,” Hunk said, continuing despite Keith’s scowl. “Lance was looking for you, though. Said he’d be in his room, and told me to tell you to find him when you got back.”

“He did? Thanks, I’ll do that.” Keith started to leave, then turned back to them. “I’m happy for you, but you should probably continue that…somewhere a little more private.”

Pidge blushed, which surprised even her. Maybe it was that Keith felt like an older brother, although Matt wouldn’t make her blush. He’d be overjoyed, asking questions until she was ready to punch him. No, until she _did_ punch him. Where Lance was the brother she horsed around with, Keith was the brother she listened to, respected.

She’d listen to Lance when he could beat her in a fight.

“Yup, just gotta take these off,” Hunk said, pulling at his armor, “and we’ll do just that.”

Keith laughed. “Don’t get too wild, now.”

Pidge was still blushing as Keith left, and wasn’t paying attention as Hunk thumped her on the back, sending her stumbling forward. When she turned back to snap at him, his wicked grin disarmed her.

“Let’s get these off…and go have some real fun.”

Pidge nodded, suddenly unable to get to the disrobing tubes fast enough.

Once they’d had their armor suctioned off, the Altean technology working in perfect concert to remove their outfits and replace it with their civvies, they made their way through the empty halls to Hunk’s room. He locked the door behind them as she flopped onto the bed, placing her glasses on the built-in shelf before turning onto her back. He stood at the door, watching her as she sometimes caught him doing, with a low smolder that might have looked at home on Keith, but was almost alien on Hunk’s usually affable face.

He took measured steps toward her, prolonging the tension, until he was right before her. He didn’t slow, but put a knee between her legs, leaning down to kiss her, to pin her with the sheer frame of his body. He got like this, sometimes, when they’d been in danger. He often took heavy hits that would have incapacitated one of the others; usually in place of someone else. And though he would do anything to protect the others, to fight for what he believed in, he hated the danger, the constant death.

Sometimes he needed to fuck just to remember he was alive, and it was all she could do to keep up.

And sometimes, she needed that reminder too.

She pushed his shirt up off his built shoulders and down his hands, and he tossed it to the floor. The warmth of his skin was so real, so human, alive. Something she could touch and feel, something before her now. 

His lips were on the sensitive skin at the base of her neck, nipping, sucking, tracing their way to her throat as she slid her hands down his sides, his chest, cupping the bulge in his pants. It was clear he didn’t need the extra encouragement, but she couldn’t help herself. His frustrated growl was well worth it.

He managed to strip her hoodie from her as she fumbled with his pants, and soon she, too, was half-naked, and then more, as he tugged her forward via the hem of her shorts and slid them and her panties straight off, leaving her lying naked before him.

He took a moment to appreciate the sight.

“Pidge,” he started, but she leaned into him, trapping the rest of the sentence in a kiss. He rumbled into her, backing her down against the mattress as he cupped her breasts in his hands, his trapped erection just grazing her, teasing her. Her arms weren’t quite long enough to reach it from where he had her, and he stopped her struggling by pinning her with his lips on her chest, ignoring her frustrated grunts

He finished disrobing on his own, stepping out of his pants as best he could before placing his hands on her ribs, gripping as much of her as he could at once. He’d told her once he loved that he could hold her like that, feeling like her sides fit perfectly in his hands, like his fingertips could almost touch across her back. It was an exaggeration, but she could tell what he was doing when he held her like this, measuring the distance of her hips, her waist, her elbows and knees by how much of her he could scoop up.

Sometimes she wondered if he’d just absorb her if he could, to hold her with all of him.

He slid his thumbs up her thighs, and she knew he was holding back. She reached behind her for the lube, but he snatched it from her. He squirted a thick dollop into his palm, coating himself before sliding his slick fingers between her folds, into her, trying his best to prime her.

Because moments later he sheathed himself inside her, and she cried out at the friction, the fullness.

The fraught pleasure of a quick, rough fuck.

“Katie,” he rumbled, fingertips sinking into the soft skin of her ass, doing his best to keep himself anchored until she adjusted.

“I’m _fine_ ,” she hissed, bucking against him, glaring into his eyes. He knew better to challenge her, now, knew that she said what she meant, that she wouldn’t hold back.

And so, for once, neither would he.

He thrust until he couldn’t keep upright, tilting her hips as he moved his knees onto the bed, his arms pillars on either sides of her face. She gripped his forearms for dear life, swept along with his passion. Whether or not she got off, the sheer fact that he wanted, _needed_ her like this was enough to keep her satisfied. She was sure she was the only one who’d ever seen this side of him, a side she treasured even as it worried her. His fear and strength he revealed only at his most vulnerable, and though he’d never hurt her, she wished he felt more comfortable with those feelings all the time.

But they’d talked, and he said he’d work on it. She’d promised to help. At moments like this, when his anxiety and relief combined and took over, she knew the best medicine was to let him work it out.

And she’d been just as ready to go as he. Between the mission and the interpersonal stress, the last thing she wanted anymore was to think. Her life and her friends lives had changed so drastically since they left Earth that she treasured these moments the most, when she could let go of her ambient worry and just relax. Feel.

Despite what she’d thought, his consistent, firm thrusts were getting her there. She reached a hand to his lips and he took her fingers in his mouth. His tongue was like lightning on her fingers, shooting sharp tingling straight down her body. And she realized: He was trying to get her off, even as he was barely controlling himself.

Bless this man who worked far, far too hard for everyone else.

She took her hand from his mouth and grabbed his hair, wrenching him down so their foreheads were almost touching.

“Hunk, you can come.”

“But—”

“Come,” she demanded, and he complied, thrusting harder and harder until he was there, letting it take him over, cheek to cheek with her. She held his head, his shoulders, making sure he could feel her through her touch. Anchoring him, mind and body, to the Castle, the ground.

To her.

He took a couple moments to catch his breath, to straighten out his mind, before sneaking one hand down between them, but she swatted it away.

“I want to…”

“You can do that later,” she said, and he removed the offending hand. Instead, he kissed her, and she smoothed his cheeks with her fingers before pinching them. “You okay?”

“More than okay.”

“Good,” she said, kissing him again. “Then you can go get us a snack while I take a shower.”

“Are you telling me to go make you a sandwich?”

“I said ‘us,’ but yes,” she said, grinning. “If you’re quick, I might still be naked by the time you get back.”

He laughed and buried his nose in her neck, tickling her with kisses on her throat. “You’d better be.”

 

* * *

 

He’d go to Lance’s room—he’d planned on that ever since the night before, when he’d been awake yet again, staring at his ceiling.

Confronting feelings he hadn’t ever planned on having.

But that could wait, at least for a minute. He had another appointment, something that needed to be settled first.

He sighed out his anxiety, and took a deep breath before knocking on Shiro’s door.

“Be right there,” Shiro said, deep voice muffled through the metal door. Keith glanced toward Lance’s door, hoping he wouldn’t hear, wouldn’t be offended that his path hadn’t been straight there. But he’d understand, right?

Since when had he cared this much about Lance’s feelings?

Since…

The door opened on Shiro, shirtless, towel around his neck. Keith could almost feel the warmth radiating from his skin, freshly showered. His white forelock clung to his forehead, and he brushed it away as he recognized Keith.

“I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Can I come in?”

“Please,” Shiro said, taking a step back to let Keith pass. He kept his eyes on the room, away from the man behind him, who still triggered something in his stomach, his hips. Someone who he respected, cared for, but…

“Shiro…”

“I’m sorry,” Shiro said, cutting Keith off. He turned, and Shiro had his right arm at the nape of his neck, showing off each one of his glorious muscles even as Keith knew that was furthest from his intention. Shiro didn’t know the affect he had on other people. It honestly wasn’t fair that one person could be so built, so beautiful…and also so cool and competent. Most of the time.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Keith said, crossing his arms.

“I do,” Shiro said. “I…well, I let you down. I let everyone down.”

“You formed Voltron fine the second time.”

“I…,” Shiro frowned, and took the moment to towel off his hair. He held the edges of the towel to his face, taking a deep breath before returning it around his neck. “Not that. About the sex.”

Keith met Shiro’s eyes, but as usual, the older man was inscrutable. “What about it?”

“I should have prepared everyone. I should have set the right expectations.” He balled his hands into fists for just a moment before flexing them again, but it was a rare show of frustration to Keith. Shiro really was bothered.

“It worked out, didn’t it?”

Shiro sighed into a thin smile. “Despite me, yes.”

“You can’t think of everything.”

“I need to—it’s my job.”

“It isn’t. Shiro, you’ll burn yourself out,” Keith said, gesturing to Shiro’s work table. “You have too much on your plate already.”

“But—”

“Have a little faith in us to work our own shit out,” Keith said, re-crossing his arms. “You’ve given us the tools we need. And…well, now you’re back to teach us the rest.”

“I…,” Shiro started, threatening to continue his self-flagellation, but Keith raised an eyebrow and Shiro put up his hands in defeat. “Thanks, Keith.”

“Any…time,” he said, realizing that in a few days, it wouldn’t be anytime. It’d be when they could talk, during the mission. Keith would be on his own, with a new team, learning from new leaders.

He’d miss Shiro’s advice, their quiet conversations. Shiro’s constant guidance, his lessons on leadership. His championship, his support.

But Keith needed to make his own way in the world.

In more ways than one.

“Sorry, I sort of took over there. You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah,” Keith said, one hand fiddling with the hem of his jacket before he could stop himself. It was a habit he was trying to erase, a tell he’d rather do without. “I…don’t think I’ll be stopping by later, before I leave.”

Shiro had gone to his perfectly neat wardrobe, a handful of grayscale shirts hanging neatly in a row. He slid a gray t-shirt off its hanger, holding it as he turned, studying Keith.

“I mean, I’ll come say good-bye, and I’d like to talk before I go, but I meant…”

“It’s okay, Keith,” Shiro said, hanging his towel on a hook and shimmying into his shirt. “You have no obligation to me. It’s just sex, remember?”

“I know…I know that,” Keith said, feeling his heart pound still, his palms sweaty. “It’s just that…”

“You’ve found something else.”

“Yeah,” Keith said, admitting it as he exhaled. He met Shiro’s too-understanding eyes, and spared a glance for the well-filled shirt. “I’m not saying never, I just…”

“I understand,” Shiro said. “Go. I’d like to talk about your mission and your role with us before you go, but that can wait.”

Keith nodded, and took one step before turning back.

“You’re a great leader, Shiro. We’d be lost without you.”

“You’d be fine,” Shiro said, and Keith couldn’t help but glare, which made Shiro laugh. “Go. I’ll see you later.”

Keith left, having said what he’d needed to. He waited until the door shut behind him, and took the few steps across the hall to Lance’s room.

And knocked.

 

* * *

 

“What do you think’s taking him so long?” Lance murmured, as he kissed his way up the back of her neck. She shivered. It was taking all of her control not to turn, to do something about the rock-hard length pressing up against her ass, his fingers curling around her hips. But they’d promised to wait. The only reason she’d let Lance get this far is that his pacing had been driving her insane.

Where _was_ Keith?

Lance’s hands started to creep up, stroking her waist as he nibbled on her earlobe. She sighed, and captured his hands with hers, intertwining their fingers so she wouldn’t be tempted to use them for anything else. They’d told everyone to tell Keith to meet Lance in his room when he got back…had something happened?

And then, a knock at the door.

“ _Finally_ ,” she sighed, and he laughed, kissing her cheek and slapping her ass as he went to open it. Lance had changed, and she had to say, liked the new confidence, how much he’d relaxed. A week ago, he’d been using his bravado as a guard, keeping his emotions behind a wall of culturally-accepted machismo. But now, his lines and moves carried his real intent, were weighted with the feelings he let spill over, and it was overwhelming, irresistible. Keith had been good for him, that was clear—but he may have awakened something neither of them bargained for.

She supposed they were both about to find out.

She fixed her mussed hair and straightened her shirt, a…Pidge had called it a tank top, though Allura wasn’t sure how it related to the heavy war machines. She’d changed into that and some leggings after the mission, training clothes that showed off her body without seeming to try too hard. She knew what was about to happen, but it didn’t mean that she wasn’t going to put effort into an outfit she’d hopefully only be wearing for a short time.

Longer than she’d planned, though, thanks to Keith.

“You’re here,” Lance said, and let Keith in. He looked a little flushed, and Allura was surprised to see a softness in his eyes that vanished as soon as he saw her. Did Lance know?

“Allura.”

“Hello, Keith,” she said, clasping her hands before her out of habit. She hoped she and Lance hadn’t miscalculated, though that would be fitting, considering their week. Well, even if they had, she would leave them to each other, no hard feelings.

After all, sex wasn’t worth it if not everyone was having a good time.

And she had other places to be.

Lance closed and locked the door, stepping behind Keith and placing a hand on Keith’s lower back, making him jump. Lance shrugged when Keith glared at him. “Allura knows.”

Keith turned to her and she nodded, approaching him until she was arm’s length away. “It sounds like you two have worked things out.”

“I could say the same,” Keith said, looking between them, suspicion clouding his brow. “What’s this about?”

Lance snuck his hands to Keith’s hips, mirroring what he’d just been doing with Allura. Keith was stiff, but couldn’t help but shiver as Lance put his head over Keith’s shoulder, their cheeks touching. “I wasn’t quite ready for this the other day, but now…I was wondering if you wanted to try again.”

“Try…” Keith started, and Allura took another step, closing the distance and reaching out to pry his hands out from under his crossed arms. She bit her lip, meeting his eyes as he bored into them, reading her intentions. “Oh.”

“Only if you’re still interested,” she said, rolling her fingers across his palms. “No offense taken if you’ve moved on.”

Lance’s brow furrowed for a moment, but Keith turned to him and he snapped back to attention. “This is okay with you?”

“It was my idea.”

“Allura?”

“Lance and I have talked, and worked things out between us,” she said, and Lance reached one hand around Keith to stroke Allura’s cheek. “Lance said there was a term for this, too—‘friends with benefits’?”

At that, Keith cracked a small grin, and Lance kissed his cheek. “So? What do you say?”

Keith pulled away to meet Lance’s eyes, searching them, and then closed his hands around Allura’s and tugged so she fell into him, into a deep, hard kiss. She heard a disgruntled noise behind her, and Keith laughed into her lips. She smiled back as she slid a hand out to wrap around his neck, to pull his hair. He knew exactly how to work Lance, how to press all of his buttons.

And Lance, his hands back on her hips and sliding straight up her shirt to trace her breasts, knew how to push quite a few of hers.

For the second time in a week, Allura found herself sandwiched between two men she deeply cared about, who were determined to explore every inch of her body—as much as they were determined to do the same to each other.

It was almost heaven.

Or rather, it was a favorite treat, an indulgence that would become meaningless if done on a regular basis. True heaven was a lover who understood, who appreciated her for exactly the woman she was. She’d tasted heaven, and she had the rug burns on her knees to prove it.

But now, she was dipping her toes in the raw passion of youth and lust, the three of them trusting in their bonds, allowing this space to explore their appetites together.

And oh, were they exploring.

Lance stripped her top off with little compunction or ceremony, but instead of capitalizing on the exposed flesh, he took her hair in his hands, pulling it from her neck in such a way it tilted her head back, too. Keith needed no other urging. Where Lance’s hands had been soft, teasing, Keith’s were power: he pinched her nipples, making her suck in a breath as Lance again feathered kisses below her ear, on the sensitive skin of her nape. Keith kept up his firm massage as he leaned in to kiss Lance over her shoulder, their breath in her ear. She pushed off Keith’s jacket and he stripped it quickly before returning to his work. His shirt seemed like too much trouble, so she went instead for his leggings, pulling at the hem.

He grabbed her wrists and wound them behind her back.

“Hold these,” he said to Lance, who took them without a word, tugging on them a little to keep her in a backbend. She heard him stifle a giggle as he watched her breasts move with the effort, and his boyish glee was infuriating as it was charming. She struggled against him, knowing the twists of her shoulders rippled down to her breasts, but his grip was firm.

So she reached out her fingers, which were in just the right position to graze his length.

She stroked and he leaned into her, the rough zipper on his jeans a very convenient way to tease someone who was hampering her own movement. Served him right.

Keith, on the other hand, was free to do whatever he liked. He stripped off his shirt and boots, and stood before the other two, assessing the situation, calculating his next move.

After a long minute, he traced the curve of her stomach down to her leggings, and peeled them down as he sank to his knees. His light touch tickled her, but Lance’s lips at her ear distracted her enough that she was naked before she realized. She couldn’t see Keith’s face, or much of him at all aside from his hair, but she imagined his smirk, his satisfaction.

She hadn’t realized she’d pressed her thighs together until she felt hands prying them apart. She adjusted, giving him space, and Lance’s lips sucked on her neck, his breath on the wet saliva cool.

And then, there was a sweet wetness below her legs; a tongue exploring her folds as hands braced her legs. She leaned back into Lance, hands grasping as much of him as she could through his rough jeans, and the hand that had been holding her hair snuck over her shoulder to graze one of her pert, hard nipples. She moaned as he flicked it once, twice; Keith’s tongue working in earnest. He knew what he was about, varying his strokes, his pressure, finding the spots that made her squirm and concentrating until she was bracing herself on Lance, pushing back just to hold herself up. He was kissing her temple, whispering into her ear, but she couldn’t parse what he was saying. Too many sensations assaulted her, from her fingertips to her toes.

Before long she felt the familiar warmth spreading through her body, the messenger, heralding the release. She said something, pleaded, begged. She didn’t have enough attention to concentrate on what was coming out of her mouth, but the response from both sides was overwhelming.

Whatever she said, worked. She came, arching back into Lance, who worked with Keith to keep her standing as she shook and her knees buckled. It took her a few moments to catch her breath, and she blinked to see Keith before her. He met her eyes, then looked over her shoulder.

She winked.

He leaned over her shoulder to kiss Lance, who ran his tongue over Keith’s still-wet lips, and Allura took that opening to twist free from Lance’s grip. She danced behind him and hooked her hands into the hem of his jeans. They met at his zipper, and she undid it as if it were her own, pillowing her breasts against his back to get better access, and to hear the low sigh he couldn’t help but emit. She felt a hand on hers, two, and they took care of the front, so she pushed down the back until they sagged to his knees. He stumbled forward, and though Allura reached out to catch him, he fell into Keith, who nodded toward the bed.

Together, they pulled him over to it.

“I…what’re…,” he said, trying to catch his bearings, but no sooner had the protests started than Allura pushed him back onto the mattress. She climbed up behind him and hauled him back as Keith made quick work of his pants. He met her eyes and grinned, and she leaned forward for a kiss as he stood between Lance’s legs.

“Oh, come on,” Lance griped, but his voice was teasing, as was the hand that was creeping steadily up the back of her thigh. Keith rolled his eyes and kissed Allura again, taking his time. He leaned forward, taking her face in his hands as his length, still trapped by his leggings, pressed against Lance’s. Only when Lance’s grumbled complaints turned to whimpers did Keith break the kiss, moving his hands instead to Lance’s cock and taking a knee.

Their interaction over, Allura turned, straddling Lance’s chest and looking down into his flushed face. She hadn’t taken the time before to see him like this — she wasn’t even sure he’d ever been this vulnerable, with her. Whatever Keith was doing behind her was working: Lance’s hand was squeezing her thigh, the other behind him in the sheets, clutching what he could. His panted gasps were endearing, sounds he wasn’t even aware he was making with his eyes shut tight. She leaned down to kiss him, capturing the little ‘mmphs’ and ‘ohs’ with her lips. He opened his eyes as she pulled away, more flushed than before, an embarrassed little grin on his lips for a second until he lost himself to another moan.

It wasn’t quite fair that he was having that much fun, she thought. The boy needed something to keep his mind occupied.

So she moved up, adjusting her knees so they were to the sides of his face. When he realized what she was about he grinned, and hooked his arms under her thighs, pulling her down.

_Good boy_ , she thought, as his tongue lapped up the mess that Keith had drawn out. She could tell what Keith was doing by the lapses in the rhythm, feeling his breath hot, his words and moans as little reverberations. It wasn’t long before she was close again, but she felt lips on her back, hands on her hips.

She turned back to Keith, whose eyes held an intensity she’d only seen on him when he was in the midst of battle. It struck a chord within her, signaling a need even she wasn’t quite aware she’d felt this keenly.

“I want you,” he said, and she needed no other urging.

She pulled her hips away to Lance’s disappointed sigh, and laid next to him. Keith moved to her and yanked her toward the edge of the bed. She gasped, and Lance laughed. It was probably as much as she deserved, but she couldn’t think about Lance right now, not with Keith’s gaze on her, with him settling himself between her legs.

With him entering her in one fluid motion.

She arched back, and within moments Lance’s lips were on hers. Her fingers found themselves in his hair, grasping onto something as Keith continued, no hesitation in his rhythm. She moaned into Lance’s lips as Keith found her clit with his thumb, and it wasn’t long before she came, shuddering against them both.

But Keith kept going.

Allura caught her breath where she could, between Lance’s kisses and the sensation building again between her legs. She was being spoiled and she knew it, so she reached for Lance’s cock, but found a hand already there — Keith was working it, stroking in time with his thrusts. She tried to intervene but he gave no quarter, so she instead dragged her nails across Lance’s torso. He shuddered and grabbed her hand, intertwining their fingers as he leaned over to explore her breasts with his lips, his tongue. She was helpless.

Or was she?

She pushed herself up, using her sheer strength to disrupt their flow. Keith, sensing the change, stepped back, and she slid off the mattress, turning to face Lance. She put her feet hips-width apart, creating a sturdy base as she went down on Lance’s now-free cock. Keith needed no urging, but repositioned himself and plunged in.

Allura grinned and made eye-contact with Lance, whose eyes had gone wide at the sight before him. She felt him stiffen in her mouth, her hands, and she kept looking up to him as she was sure Keith was doing behind her. While Keith was perfectly good at what he did, it seemed perfunctory. They were both focused on the man in front of them, and that was fine.

Until he jerked his head at her.

“I…oh, stop…I want to…switch.”

Keith gave her ass a squeeze, surprising her as he slid out. Maybe it wasn’t so perfunctory after all—maybe it was that they just hadn’t figured out the communication between the two of them, hadn’t identified the things that would turn good sex into great, hadn’t found the things that would drive each other wild.

Well, fair enough. It happened, and he hadn’t been bad—far from. He leaned in to kiss her, a check-in, making sure she was still happy. She responded, but felt two arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her back. Lance kissed her cheek as she fell back into him, and he laid her on her back again.

“Wait there,” he said, winking. “I’ve got plans for you.”

His words, said with such confidence, made her thighs warm, potential pooling between them. She saw Lance dip below the bed, could just see the top of his hair as Keith ran his hand through it. Keith closed his eyes to avoid meeting hers, a tell if she still needed one. He’d caught it, bad, and from Lance’s enthusiastic bobbing, it seemed like those feelings might be reciprocated. Though with Lance, it was hard to tell—hadn’t that been the story of her week?

Keith had a hard road ahead of him, that was for sure.

Lance stood, catching Keith under the jaw, one hand around his waist, before turning back to Allura. He smoothed his hands over her thighs, his face, for once, unreadable. His hands slid to her stomach, tracing her curves, her hips, circling his fingers down lower and lower, but not quite where she wanted them to go. He just seemed content to look on her, to admire her.

Fine, admire away.

With one hand she swept her hair out from behind her, letting it fall over one shoulder, tilting her chin back and up to expose her throat. She kept heavy-lidded eyes on him as she slid her other hand down, straight to where she wanted, her middle finger slipping straight between her folds to her wet clit. Her reward was hearing his sucked-in breath, feeling his tip press against her. Teasing.

So she bit her lower lip, sliding it slowly out of her teeth, lowering her gaze just slightly before meeting his again.

That did the trick.

He pushed into her, and she exhaled, relishing the feeling of fullness again. Keith hadn’t been small, but Lance had just enough length that she was happy to have had the warmup. She felt something bump her hand and found Keith kneeling on the bed, so she reached up to take him in her hand, guiding him toward her. He adjusted, coming close enough that, when he leaned over, she could tilt up to take him in her mouth.

And moments later, Lance joined her, sharing a kiss with Keith’s cock between them.

She had to take a second to lay back, to watch front-row as Lance, the same man who just days ago had been covering his nerves with sheer ego; who’d been approaching sex the only way he’d known how, by trying to give and taking instead. And now he was giving everything he had to both of them, his thrusts gentle but sure as he lavished Keith with his tongue; and from his sly grin and muffled moans, he was reaping his pleasure in spades.

She was happy for him.

Her pride must have shown on her face, her drifting attention something that needed to be fixed. Keith pushed Lance’s head away and angled down toward Allura, leaning so his lips were on Lance’s as his tip entered her mouth. Now she was the one working, her hand finding his base, forefinger and thumb meeting behind his balls, tightening as she flicked the tip with her tongue. Keith groaned into Lance’s lips, and Lance, his hands no longer needed to hold him up, gripped her thighs. He tried to raise her legs to his shoulders but she resisted, knowing the angle would be too deep, too much for her, so instead, he found another use for his idle hands.

She arced back as his thumb found her clit, pulling Keith out so she didn’t accidentally bite down on him. Lance’s circles weren’t quite in the right place, weren’t anywhere near as deft as Keith, but they were getting the job done. He took the opening and leaned down to take Keith into his mouth again, and Allura, not willing to be bested, rose up to meet him. Their lips met again around the shaft, though after a few moments she couldn’t keep up, her pleasure coming too quickly. She shouted her climax, gripping Keith’s knee, Lance’s free hand as she shuddered down onto him.

It wasn’t until she felt the drops that she realized Keith had come just after, spilling out into Lance’s mouth, onto her chest. He grunted once, twice more, then fell back on the bed as Lance turned his full attention to his thrusts. He must have been delaying his own pleasure—again, Allura felt a little swell of pride—for he came hard between her thighs soon after. He leaned over her as he did and she pulled herself up to lick his lips, his chin, tasting Keith between them. Lance buried his forehead into her neck as he thrust through the orgasm, the aftershocks making him shiver as he continued to thrust through it, slowing to a stop only after he was totally spent.

They’d done it. The ambitious ménage à trois they’d attempted days before that had failed so spectacularly, now completed in a blaze of sex and sweat.

She flopped back and Lance moved with her, his head on her chest. She ruffled Lance’s hair and looked to Keith, who was watching with a mix of satisfaction and something she couldn’t quite place. She found his hand and tentatively touched his fingers; he took hers in his, stroking his thumb over the back of her hand.

They’d done it.

And they’d be fine.

 

* * *

 

Lance hadn’t meant to start them up again when he’d offered his shower for cleanup, but Keith had said something about saving on water and Allura insisted she needed help with her hair, so they’d crammed into the small space. And that many wet, soapy bodies sliding against each other was plenty enough to get them all going again. Both he and Keith took turns pinning Allura against the wall, her glorious mane matted and clinging to whatever came anywhere near it: his shoulder, Keith’s arms, the tile. Maybe she hadn’t just been coming on to them…though she certainly came on them both. Lance hadn’t thought the angle wouldn’t be right, that their heights would make for some difficult geometry, but he’d forgotten that Alteans could change their physique. And what a handy trick that was.

But it wasn’t until he found himself pinned between Keith and Allura, her lips on his and her hand around his cock, her grip firm and her tugs in rhythm with Keith, who thrust into him from behind, nipping his shoulder blades even as his fingers gripped Lance’s hips with iron force, that he realized: he had incredible friends in these two. They cared about him, his well-being. In their own ways, they’d helped him clarify how he felt about so many things: each of them, certainly, but also what he wanted from a relationship, from them. They’d accepted him for who he was, and accepted his love for them, how much he cared, even though it scared him, too.

They hadn’t abandoned him.

On the contrary: They cared about him.

He looked into Allura’s bright blue eyes, and she kissed him again, laughing lips smashed against his as he was pushed into her by the momentum from behind. He still loved her, of course—Allura was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but she was no longer on a pedestal. He saw her for who she was, or who he understood her to be, and was glad for it. He liked her much more, now that they approached each other on equal footing. He grinned into the kiss, and slid one hand between her legs. He had her lower lip in his teeth when she moaned.

Keith, whose shadow he’d always been chasing, who days before he thought was claiming the one thing he cared about by showing a passing interest. They’d both misinterpreted the whole situation, but Keith had been the one to come talk him down. It had been Keith who put his intentions on the line, who’d shown him how selfishness and selflessness had to go hand in hand. Keith didn’t seem to have any anxieties about sex—he just saw opportunities and took them, for both his partner and himself. That surety was overwhelming to Lance, sexy in an entirely different way from Allura’s confident playfulness. They’d both taught him so much.

Not the least of which was to relax, to enjoy. And to speak up, if he couldn’t, didn’t.

At the moment, he had no cause for complaint. Between Keith buried in his ass, fingertips gripping hard enough to bruise and thrusts becoming jerky as he came close, and Allura, whose thumb was busy lightly brushing his tip, teasing a sensation that spread down and met the tingling that Keith was pounding through him, he was close to coming yet again.

And, there. Keith came hard, shuddering up into Lance as he fell forward, unable to delay his climax any longer. That, along with Allura’s hand tightening around Lance’s cock, sliding down it with quick, sharp tugs, sent him over the edge, and he came into her hand, onto her stomach, moaning into her lips.

He had very, very good friends.

They managed to clean up, for real this time, though Allura insisted she didn’t _actually_ require any assistance with her hair. She came out last, wet hair braided and coiled into a bun. Keith handed her the clothes she’d been wearing and she slipped them on over her damp skin before turning back to them.

“I…had fun today,” she said, meeting Keith’s eyes, then Lance’s. He’d stopped deciding on a shirt when she’d finished dressing, and he took a few steps forward.

“Good plan, huh?”

“Very,” she said, stepping forward to kiss him on the cheek. She looked back to Keith, who nodded.

Nodded? What did that mean?

But Allura was leaving, and he turned to see her out. She turned just before he reached for the lock, her gaze searching his. “We’re okay?”

“Very,” he said, echoing her. That seemed to be enough for her; she turned to the door, and he undid the lock. It wheezed shut behind her, and he turned back to Keith, who’d just put on his black boxer-briefs and was leaning against the wall around the bed alcove.

With Allura gone, the intensity and playfulness had both disappeared, leaving the room wide, empty. It left him alone with his thoughts, and Keith: two things he’d only recently learned to deal with. With no adrenaline as buffer, his nerves took over.

“Did you have a nice time?” He said to fill the silence, and winced. What was this, his birthday?

Keith didn’t move, though he cracked a smile. “Yeah, I did.”

“I, um, good.” He walked back to his closet, avoiding Keith’s gaze. Something about his posture made Lance nervous—maybe it was his crossed arms, though that was Keith’s default, not anything unusual. Maybe it was that he wasn’t sitting, that he looked ready to take off whenever he could find an opening.

Take off, and in a few days, leave. Possibly forever, if the Blades’s mission went south.

Lance’s fingers froze in the middle of peeling a shirt from the hanger, reality hitting him harder in the vacuum of energy. He’d been so involved in figuring out his own feelings, so introspective over the last few days that he had forgotten, ultimately. They were at war. Any one of them could be killed, but he’d always believed that, as a team, they could make it through anything.

But Keith was leaving.

Lance heard the footsteps, felt the touch on his shoulder, but couldn’t quite muster the courage to meet Keith’s eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

What could he say? That it was all wrong, that none of them should be in this position? None of them should need to put their lives on the line constantly to save the universe from a threat they hadn’t even known existed until months ago, but without that threat, without this battle, they wouldn’t have grown so close?

He couldn’t burden Keith with that, as he was about to leave. He wanted to send him off with a smile, with the memories between them pleasant. He didn’t want Keith to remember him like this, near-tears and terrified. It just seemed like guilt, added to the strain that the last few weeks had put on the team.

Keith’s hand lightened on his shoulder, drawing away. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” Lance said, whipping around. Keith was right there, eyes worried. His mouth went dry, and he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He plastered a smile on his face though he knew it looked awful, that Keith could see immediately through it. “I-I mean, don’t let me keep you if you have somewhere to be…”

“I don’t,” Keith said, gripping Lance’s other shoulder, holding him up. They both inhaled in time, making Lance laugh a little. “Do you want to sit? You seem a little unsteady.”

“Y-Yeah, thanks,” Lance said, and followed Keith back to the bed, the sheets still rumpled, indents where bodies had lay, writhed. He sat, Keith next to him, keeping his hand on Lance’s bicep.

“Talk to me,” Keith said, and Lance laughed, bitter. He glanced quickly to Keith, but it was easier to talk to the floor, the faceless, emotionless metal a void he could confess to.

“I guess…I’m just gonna miss you.” Keith’s hand tensed for a moment.

“I’ll be back.”

“How can you be sure?” Lance said, regretting it immediately. Hadn’t he just said he was going to keep his fears to himself? But Keith leaned into Lance’s shoulder, and Lance continued, the seal peeling off the emotions he’d just tried to bottle. “I spent so long thinking you were some hotshot pilot oozing with natural ability, always snatching away what I wanted when it was almost within my reach. But…I know that’s not true. You’re smart, you work hard. You see what you want and go for it.

“And…Keith, just in the last few days, you’ve…,” Lance paused to find the words, licking the salt of his nervous sweat off his lips, “you’ve been so good to me. You…you helped me reframe my entire understanding of all of this.” He waved his hand at the room, the bed. He glanced again at Keith, who still watched him, lips pressed together. “And now you’re leaving.”

“You don’t want me to go.”

“Of course I don’t, but I understand. You have something you need to do.”

“I’ll be back.”

“How do you know?” Lance said, his voice cracking on the bitter question. He hated himself for asking, but his optimism couldn’t erase the fact of their reality, that Keith was leaving with kinsmen he barely knew, a cult of pragmatic mercenaries who died, often, in service of their larger mission. People who did not hesitate at self-sacrifice, who didn’t see Keith as special beyond what work he could provide.

Keith could be asked to die, and knowing Keith, he would do it.

Lance didn’t realize he was crying until Keith wrapped his arms around him, bringing him into his chest, a hand in his hair. His tears came hot, trailing down his cheeks to drip down to Keith’s legs. He felt lips on his forehead.

“I can’t be,” Keith said, finally. At that, a deep sob came unbidden from Lance’s chest, rocking him, but Keith held him and continued. “I don’t know what’ll happen out there, and we’re up against something greater than either one of us. Than any one of us.”

Lance tried to choke out some sort of protest, but couldn’t find the words. Keith was right.

“But I don’t plan to die. I plan to return to Earth at the end of this, with all of you.” He tilted Lance’s head up to kiss his lips, and Lance squeezed his eyes tight, the tears flooding, his nose starting to drip. He tried to focus on Keith’s soft, warm lips on his, the way Keith kissed him without hesitation. Keith never hesitated, and it was something Lance admired as much as he hated. What would life be like, with no insecurity?

Keith pulled back a little, enough to look Lance in the eyes. “I mean to go back with you.”

He kissed Lance again as Lance cried harder, unable to do much but sob and receive. He gripped Keith’s leg, needing to hold on to some part of him, and Keith held him, kissing away his tears, stroking his back until the pent-up fear cried itself out, subsiding in small hiccups and ragged breaths.

“You mean it?”

“Wouldn’tve said it otherwise.”

Lance took a deep breath, settling himself, concentrating on the warmth those words sent into his heart. He knew Keith was serious, but the very idea that Keith felt that way about him…how long had he known?

He slid out of Keith’s grip and took his hands, exploring the calluses, the little scars. His hands were petite for his size, but so strong, the result of training day in and day out. Keith felt meant to be a warrior, a soldier. He held honor and duty in his heart, understood their missions to be what they were. Lance…just wanted to fly through space, to feel the thrust of the jet engines, the fluid machinery under him, hurtling effortlessly into the stars. They both had to obey their natures, but…Keith had as good as promised he’d come home, and that was as much as Lance could ask.

Almost.

“Would you…stay with me tonight?” He asked.

Keith nodded, squeezing Lance’s hands. “Of course.”

When they made love that night, in the darkest early hours, there were no words between them; just tender touches, urgent kisses, loving tears. A culmination of all that lay between.

And the desire for dawn to never come.

 

* * *

 

Shiro would never admit he was waiting for the knock on his door, but when it came he sighed in relief. He put down the book he was only pretending to read and curbed his steps so he didn’t arrive at the door too quickly. After all, it could be someone else…or, after Keith’s admission earlier, it could be a conversation he didn’t want.

But it was Allura, glowing, well-brushed hair unbound like a halo around her loungewear-clad body. He spared only a glance for her shorts, riding at the top of her mile-long legs, but when he met her eyes, she knew. He was meant to look.

“Come on in,” he breathed, and she slid past him, just out of reach. He shut the door and moved to lock it but hesitated, not wanting to presume, and certainly not wanting to give Allura the wrong impression. He was well aware of how women felt about being locked in rooms without their input, however innocent their partner’s intentions.

“You can lock it,” she said from behind him, and he turned to see her grin, hand on her hip.

“I take it you talked to Lance,” he started, locking the door and taking a tentative step forward. He kept his hands to himself, though he itched to reach out, take her up and toss her back on the bed. She already seemed worlds more relaxed, the usual rigidity gone from her shoulders, the edge taken from her eyes. She’d hit her stride in her Lion, and must have sorted out the awkwardness between her and the other paladins. Well, good.

Now if he could only really, truly sort himself out, they’d be the united fighting force he always thought they’d been.

He was used to being able to sort himself out. He’d had to do it often enough, without the luxury of time and safety to sort his thoughts. Twice, in recent memory, when he’d been captured by and made to escape from the Galra, once again when he was injured in his fight with Zarkon. He’d pushed his body and mind past their limits, surviving long enough to be rescued. And he’d moved on, come out of those experiences a better leader, finding some comfort in the fact that he could live on without understanding all the ambiguities within him, that he could thrive without his missing memories and despite the vivid dreams that came to him on occasion.

But now, with time and safety and a support system, he found it harder to reach out. The answers and reassurances he needed couldn’t come from within; by nature, they relied on his partners. And human nature was unpredictable, let alone that “human” didn’t apply to them all. Allura had a different culture, an upbringing that contained experiences he couldn’t imagine for the sheer fact that he’d never seen Altea, and would never have first-hand knowledge of how such a powerful, advanced society had lived and thrived. The cultural crucible that had forged Allura was lost beyond time, and though it was blessing as much as curse, it meant there would be surprises, things he’d only understand about her through the time they spent together.

Though, functionally, Earth was lost to the paladins, too. They were all orphans on this castle, building a family with each other that, by necessity, was made of deeper bonds than flesh and blood. He’d worked so hard to instill the trust between his team, watched them form their own bonds. Just earlier that day, he’d realized just how deep those bonds went.

He met Allura’s eyes, saw her soft smile.

How many times would he have to remember that those bonds extended to him, too?

He just needed to let go, and trust.

“I did. More than just talk, if I’m being totally honest…with Keith, too.”

“Keith?”

She nodded, folding a hand over her wrist. Their conversation was serious, but Shiro couldn’t help notice that her arms pushed her breasts together, the cleavage pillowing a little more out of her low-cut tank top. “I don’t think it’ll be a habit…they seem to have…well.”

“I understand,” Shiro said. So, it had been Lance. He was almost sure it hadn’t been Allura, but she’d so artfully only given Shiro the need-to-know about Keith that he wondered if she’d been leaving out any involvement between just the two of them. But no, it was Lance. Good. He’d thought Keith would be the one to teach Lance a thing or two, but perhaps the education had gone both ways.

He looked to her again, as she rolled her lips between her teeth, bright turquoise eyes peering up through her long, white lashes. He took another step toward her. “So, what brings you here?”

“You,” she said, smile breaking shyly as she shifted her weight. “I know that I said I wasn’t looking for more than sex, and that’s…well, not quite right.” She put a hand out and he took it, bringing her fingers to his lips, unable to help himself. She laughed. “I’d like to propose a partnership.”

“A partnership?”

“Not a relationship, exactly…and not exclusive, either.” She stepped up to him, close enough that he could feel her body heat. He couldn’t help but to run his hand through her hair, pushing errant locks back behind her shoulder. She leaned into his hand, lowering her lashes. “Shiro, you more than anyone else understand what we’re up against, the burden of…”

She trailed off, and he kissed her forehead, burying his nose in that spicy floral smell he’d come to associate with her, the smell he couldn’t get from his sheets, even if he’d wanted to.

She pulled back and met his eyes. “I think we could be good for each other.”

“I agree,” he said, and found her lips with his. She met him, soft and warm, sealing the pact between them. A trust, a bond. A treaty — something that, leaders both, they could appreciate more than promises of love and survival. To cherish each other while they could, to love and understand and argue, to fight and protect what was theirs, their hard-won empires that happened to overlap. The pledge to be there, to be strong when the other could not; to find joy when the other became too mired in the loss, the deep sadness that dogged their footsteps.

It was an arrangement they could both agree to, hearts open.

He cupped her neck, deepening the kiss, unable to stop his anxious energy from flowing out as need. He’d bottled up his emotions for so long, thought he was the stronger for keeping everything under wraps.

He’d been a fool.

To find real strength, he needed to experience his emotions, to let his neurotic, anxious unease flow just as much as the desire, to feel them heat his blood, make his heart pound. If he never allowed himself to feel, he’d be blindsided when those feelings did seep out, as they always would. They just had, and they would again.

The difference was that now, he had an ally.

She reached her hands to intertwine behind his neck, her long fingers sifting through the short-buzzed hair at the nape. He shivered, and moved his other hand to her hips, using them to steady her, though she needed little help. It felt right, her in his arms like this.

They should have done this sooner.

But should’ve, would’ve, could’ve were meaningless. What mattered was that it happened, now; that they were together. That she wanted to be together.

That she wanted to be with him.

She slid her hands to the front of his shirt, two short tugs communicating a firm request, and he needed no other invitation. He reached back between his shoulder blades and grabbed his shirt, pulling it up and over his head, banishing it to the far corner of his room. She took a moment to admire him, her eyes roving over his chest, clear now in the well-lit room. He didn’t think much of his physique, outside of how it served him in battle, but to see her take it in, lingering on his shoulders, his abs; well, it sure didn’t feel bad.

She took one of his hands in hers and led him to the bed, lying back on the mattress, leaving herself intentionally wide open. He was tempted to just slide those shorts right off and let his fingers go to work between her legs, to see her reaction, but the playfulness would have to wait. This felt too important to make entirely about fun.

Instead, he followed her lead, leaning over her and again capturing her lips. Though she played the coquette with her body language, she was in charge, leading him where she wanted with a flip of her finger. And he was happy to follow. She knew what she was about, how to narrate the flow of sex. How to evoke feeling and awaken connection with the timing of a touch, the fit of a body against another. He could take over should she offer, but he would be a fool to not take direction from an expert who knew how to please them both.

Her hands came to rest on his cheeks, fingertips tracing his brows, his jawline, down to his shoulders, around biceps that were flexed to hold his weight. They let their lips doing the talking, taking solace in the quiet moment.

They both needed a break.

It was Shiro who finally broke the kiss, wanting more, his anxieties starting to boil up and over as energy once again. He sucked on her lower lip, starting his journey downward. She shivered as he slid his human hand up her tank top, following the curve of her waist, cupping her breast and squeezing the nipple in one fluid, firm motion. She gasped into him and he pushed her shirt all the way up, helping her rid her of the flimsy thing. Putting them back on equal ground, both shirtless, nipples hard with the slight chill and the anticipation. He returned his hand and used his mouth on the other side, taking his time, making circles on her skin with his tongue, sucking here and there in random places as his left hand concentrated solely on her nipple, pinching and pulling just enough to elicit mewling pleasure.

He kissed his way down her stomach, the flat skin soft, warm. He traced her various pink markings, wanting to test if they were any more sensitive than the rest of her. His ministrations made her squirm, but the results were inconclusive—he’d have to test it more, now that he had the promise of time.

A tug on his forelock brought him back up to her lips, wet and insistent, and she pressed her shoulder up and into his, rolling him onto his back. Her hair fell like a veil, and he curled it around his finger as she kissed his throat, his collarbones; down his stomach, between the muscles there. Her hair had almost totally unspooled when he felt her fingers hook under the hem of his leggings, pulling them down and freeing his hard length.

She didn’t look up, didn’t ask permission; she just wrapped a hand around and took him in her mouth, sliding her tongue down the sensitive underside.

He moaned.

He lay back and let her do as she pleased, awash in the sensation of her around him. He wrapped his fingers again in her hair, a tether, some sort of connection to the force that threatened to pull him under.

He must have known, somewhere, that it would be her. Always somewhere in his mind, if not by his side, ever since the day she’d emerged from a 10,000 year old war that to her was still fresh, and worked with what she had to save them all. She’d mourned her fate, but taken up the mantle, becoming the leader of a movement that now spanned planets and peoples, that was bigger than any of them could have anticipated, and would only grow. They’d never talked about the leadership thrust upon them, but he knew how it felt. She’d mourned, yes, but never complained, never turned away from her duty. Moreover, she found joy in the work.

Just as she found joy in him.

He raised himself to his elbows, the sensation threatening to take him there too quickly. She looked up at him and he felt his loins tighten, the sight an awful lot to take in when he was already so close. She planted a kiss where his hips jutted out and stripped him of his leggings, ditching her own shorts with a few stamps of her legs as he slid further back on the bed. They regarded each other for a long moment, as equals, proud and confident and insecure and humble, as vulnerable as they’d ever be before each other, more than they would ever be in front of another. It was one thing to let their bodies show, but their feelings too were on display, their wealth of hope and their deepest wounds.

It scared them both, a little, but the balm was worth it.

She climbed up on the bed, leaning in for another long kiss, and he wrapped his hands around her ribs, holding her steady as she swung her leg over him. She reached between them, taking him in her hand to position herself, and came down as best she could, shifting her hips until he slid in. He felt her breath hitch through his hands, and let her start the motion, though his body was pleading for him to do otherwise. She kissed him before grabbing his forearms and pushing up and back, rocking her hips against him.

After a short while, she slid down on him, bracing her hands on his chest, huffing. “I…can’t find a good angle.”

He bounced her once, bucking his hips to see her gasp, her face red, breasts bobbing with the motion. He couldn’t help it—all men stayed boys, when it came down to it, and it was worth it to see her amused, if irritated, expression. He raised an eyebrow. “It wouldn’t just be that you’re tired, would it?”

“Me? Tired?” She couched her protest in the joke, but her long sigh as he lifted his hips in a genuine thrust was telling to them both. “I…suppose that might be the case.”

“C’mere,” he growled, unable to hold out much longer. He pulled her down until she lay against him and he could slide his hands around her back. He started slow, thrusting in long, easy strokes to give her time to adjust, to let her loosen up, and then ramped up as she moaned her pleasure into his ear. She felt so good around him, on him, the smell of her sweat and perfume intoxicating.

“Allura, I can’t…”

“Shiro,” she said, his name soft, desperate on her lips. “Come.”

And he did, burying his head into her shoulder as his climax was pulled from him, his hips aching as he pumped into her. She kissed the parts of his face she could reach, into his hair, murmuring against him as he rode out the pleasure. Taking care of him, even as she’d gotten him off without receiving anything in return.

When he found he could think again, he kissed her again, holding her cheeks in his hands. She folded hers over his, sliding her fingers over his palms.

“What can I do for you?” He asked, their foreheads touching. She made the universal humming noise that signified ‘nothing,’ and when he started to move his hand she held it, firm.

“I’m quite satisfied,” she said, kissing him. “To be honest, I’m ready for bed.”

His heart sank, but he nodded, bucking his hips just a little to tease her as she slid off him. She grinned and swatted his chest, dipping into the bathroom to clean up. He grabbed a nearby tissue to do the same, shocked at the sheer amount of mess they’d both made.

He’d done the best he could by the time she came back, and she grabbed her shorts up off the floor. He watched her shimmy into them, watched her search for her tank top, watched her approach him, dressed, to kiss him goodnight.

“Aren’t you going to move over?” She said, and his brows furrowed.

“Move over?”

“Unless you don’t want me to stay?” She said, looking toward the closet.

“Oh, no, of course,” he said, springing up and pulling the covers back. He froze mid-motion as she put her hands on his lower back, her forehead between his shoulders. She said nothing, just kissed him, and he turned to take her in his arms. “You can stay with me as long as you like.”

 

* * *

 

The debrief went about as well as could be expected; the Blades, rebels, and paladins managing to keep the bickering to a minimum as they reviewed the mission. They were almost finished when an emergency alert called the paladins away, ending the meeting before all parties were satisfied. Coran had managed to smooth things over, but it had taken quite a bit of effort, and he looked as exhausted as the paladins when they returned.

The coalition also had business that couldn’t be put off, especially with the influx of new resources, so Shiro and Allura were kept busy organizing people and supplies, settling disputes, and trying, where they could, to build a foundation between parties so their coalition could hold even when there was no longer a common enemy to bind them. More than a few dissatisfied parties left placated, commenting on the teamwork of the even-keeled leaders, admiring how they worked together to find solutions to many problems at once. Coran, no fool, went to the destroyed server room to let Alfor know that there was someone else who cared deeply for his daughter, and that she was doing a fine job, as they both knew she would.

But with Allura and Shiro busy, it meant that it left Lance, Pidge, and Hunk to help Keith pack anything he might need. Keith protested over and over that he had nothing _to_ pack, that everything he needed he kept in a knapsack by the end of his bed, but it gave them an excuse to spend time with him in his room. Even Keith knew they needed to be there for themselves, though they assured him it was because they were worried about him. He was glad for the company, just as he was glad when Pidge asked for Hunk’s help in the lab on something that would take all night. She’d had to elbow him once or twice to get him moving, and he’d needed a few hugs from Keith before they finally left. And then it was just Lance, who needed to be held, loved. Told he would be missed.

The whole team managed to find the time for dinner, though it was late and nothing special. They laughed and joked, but the tension hung over them, exacerbating their exhaustion, nerves. One by one they left, though Hunk and Pidge each needed another hug, and Lance lingered by the door, clenching the frame as he left. Allura got up to follow him, leaving Shiro alone with Keith.

“You’ll be okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith said, sighing. He knew Shiro meant well by it, they all did, but didn’t they all put themselves into harm’s way every day? But where he was going, they wouldn’t be able to follow—they couldn’t save him if something went wrong. He’d be on his own.

But he was doing it for them, too.

“I’ll be fine.”

Shiro nodded, but even his eyes seemed softer than usual, worried. “Just come back in one piece, okay? For all of us.”

Keith nodded, and left Shiro to return to his room, only to find Allura outside the door.

“Keith, I…,” she started, but he cut her off, unable to deal with the kid gloves everyone for some reason agreed to slip on.

“I’ll be fine,” he snapped, and she shook her head, folding her arms as he usually did.

“I know,” she said, her lips a thin line. “I just wanted to thank you, for everything. And to tell you…well, I’ll miss you. We all will.”

She held our her arms, tentatively, and he, blindsided by her words, fell into them. She held him firm for only a few moments, stepping apart to look into his eyes, her own watering.

“I won’t keep you,” she said, and kissed him on his forehead. “But call us, whenever you need to. We’re still here for you, Keith.”

“Thank you,” he whispered, and she left back down the hall to the workrooms.

That night, he let Lance into him, wanting to so viscerally feel the other man’s need. He’d never enjoyed it, before, but maybe it was because he’d never had a lover he’d cared about in the same way. And when had he developed these feelings? It was Lance’s fault, he decided as he came, as Lance bit into his shoulder, driving down into him with unrestrained abandon; his enthusiasm, his confidence in all of them. His love that overflowed into all of their lives, whether they wanted it or not. The love that threatened to take them both under, if they weren’t careful.

And neither of them were careful men.

Keith took it all, Lance’s fears and needs, even as Lance delayed as long as he could. Keith knew he didn’t want the night to end, and maybe he didn’t, either. But even when he left, it wouldn’t be the end. Just a long pause.

If the universe heard his pleas and got him, both of them, out alive.

When Lance came, it was with his lips on Keith’s, muffling his ‘please’s and ‘oh god’s as he buried himself, connecting them as much as he could.

Because the sun would rise into the sky, and take Keith with it.

Away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! I hope this wrapped up in a...satisfactory way for you all ;) Thanks again for your support! The next chapter is the epilogue, and sets the stage for the novella I'll be posting in July - All Cats 1.5. Until next Sunday, then - have a great week!


	9. Epilogue: It's a Jungle Out There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro welcomes home an old friend, who both threatens and intrigues Lance; Pidge makes a request of Matt, who ignores it, to Allura’s delight. All Cats 1 ends.

* * *

 

Life went on in the days and weeks after Keith left. Even though he’d warned them it’d be difficult for him to send word, they received messages every so often. He said nothing about the mission, unless there was something the paladins needed to know; instead, it was usually a short message to let them know he was thinking of them. They all gathered around when one came, happy to hear from him, to know he was still out there, safe.

Shiro made the call for the paladins to lay low and dedicate their efforts to the coalition, wanting to manage the changes in both their team and their lives with as few interruptions as possible. They spent their time on Olkarion, training the growing rebel fighting corps, organizing the refugees, and working with the engineers to develop new technologies that could help them all. Lance offered to help Coran down on the ground, keeping busy and meeting as many people as he could. Sometimes their work kept them out overnight, but though Lance would come back rumpled and looking less rested than before, Shiro knew he was in safe hands. And Lance was popular—he knew how to win over strangers, just by being himself. It was good to have a paladin that was friend to the people, who was happy to be the face of the Lions. That kind of personal interaction was critical: It was why Shiro had volunteered to personally oversee the training of the fighting rebels, passing on whatever Garrison training he could, though they had a fraction of the experience and the resources. Every bit helped.

Pidge and Hunk had been helping the engineers, but when Pidge came to Shiro and asked to pursue a good lead on her brother, he let her go. He’d worried about being down a Lion after just releasing Keith for the same issue, but Pidge would only be gone a short while, and he could keep tabs on her. With their rebel intel and a Blades honor guard, they were more covered than they’d ever been, and could spare her for this. He couldn’t risk her leaving permanently, and besides, he still owed it to Matt.

So when the Green Lion soared back over Olkarion, he couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief with the rest of them. Hunk announced her return, relief evident in his face, now that Shiro knew where to look. Nothing had changed after they’d told everyone about their relationship, except that Coran could never seem to let it drop, thrilled as he was with their “budding love,” as he often put it. Shiro shuddered to think of what would happen if Coran knew about him and Allura, but maybe he could be asked to keep it together.

Pidge trotted down the boarding ramp to greet the mice, and introduced them all to a tall, brown-haired stranger behind her.

“Hey, everybody…this is my brother, Matt.”

Matt…she’d done it.

She’d found him.

 

* * *

 

“Oh my goodness…you are so beautiful!! It is my honor to meet you, Princess.”

The man introduced as Pidge’s brother reached his hand out to Allura, and all Lance could think was, _this fucking interloper_.

He’d heard about Matt Holt, they all had—the man was a legend. What the legend failed to say, however, was that he had the audacity to be tall and good-looking, too. Next to Pidge, he’d wondered how he’d ever confused Pidge’s gender…or was it that he’d seen her as a girl for so long now? And had this Matt or whatever always had a dashing cheek scar? Could he get one of those?

And how dare he come on to Allura, within moments of meeting her? To be sure, he’d done the same thing, but it was different, then. He hadn’t called her beautiful, for one. Wait, no, that wasn’t a positive. It was just…different somehow. Matt didn’t know what was going on, and yet he was so forward?

Why hadn’t he been forward with Lance, too?

He felt a twinge of regret, but he and Keith had decided it was for the best if they parted without promises, keeping themselves busy to keep their minds off each other. It didn’t feel great to be with someone else, but Lance had needed the distraction, and when Coran had offered to introduce Lance to some of his fans, he figured it was worth it. He was honest with his partners, and it had worked out all right so far, but no matter how good the night, he missed having something more. Even if it came in the form of an asshole who worked too hard.

Lance watched this Matt pass, watched as Shiro pulled him into an embrace. He knew there was a past there, too—after all, they’d been on the fateful Kerberos mission together. Did everyone get incredible facial scars from that mission? Lance kicked himself; he knew it had been awful for them both, but they’d come through it.

And Pidge…

He turned to see her, wiping away a tear with the heel of her hand as she watched Matt and Shiro’s reunion, Hunk’s hands on her shoulders. She’d worked so hard for this, never letting her focus waver. She’d set out to find her family, and she’d done it, at least in part. But part was better than nothing, and Lance knew how she felt. He’d give anything to see his family again, but at least he knew they were safely tucked away on Earth.

Pidge ran ahead to invite Matt into the Castle, and Shiro, Allura, and Coran followed them in, talking about the new additions to the coalition. Hunk elbowed Lance as he went in after, and though Lance frowned, he followed.

The handsome interloper had a pass, for now.

 

* * *

 

Pidge couldn’t help herself. If anyone could understand the incredible technological and design achievement that was the Castle, it was Matt. There was so much to show him, so many things that had wowed and enchanted her as she’d explored the past few months, things she’d tinkered with and improved, with or without permission. Matt had always been her guide and instructor to the mysteries of the universe, and for once, she could teach him a thing or two, show him what the realities of her bizarre alien life were. They had a cow, and still ate food goo most days, though Hunk had managed to work wonders in the kitchen when they found the ingredients.

She still wondered sometimes if his cooking wasn’t why she’d finally fallen for him.

And, sure enough, when she’d taken a quick breather in the lounge, he’d showed up with incredible milkshakes. Where’d he even gotten the idea? She sipped hers as two of the most important men in her life got to know each other, talking about their roles in the fight against the Galra. Matt, too, had been thrust into a fight he hadn’t understood…and thrust in, alone. She’d asked him if he’d heard anything about their dad on the way back from the outpost, but he’d gone quiet, saying only he hadn’t seen or heard anything about him since they’d been separated.

She’d gone quiet, too, but finding her dad was her next challenge. After all, she’d found Matt, hadn’t she?

And he was already proving to be a valuable addition to the team. He saw what she’d done with the algorithm, the cloaking. He immediately understood the technology, well enough to use it despite being unfamiliar with how it was calibrated to Voltron’s unique physiology. And he would be staying with them until further notice, a permanent liaison between the rebels and the paladins, Allura decided, when they met after their jaunt to see the Galra Empire’s in-fighting. Pidge knew it was to keep him close to her, but she could still think of no one better suited to manage the relationship between the two groups.

But Pidge watched him watch Allura leave, a familiar game grin on his face, and sighed.

“Matt, there’s things you should know.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

She sighed. She could try to stop him, but what was the point? He did what, and whom, he wanted.

“Just don’t sleep with all my friends?”

“No promises, Pidge.”

 

* * *

 

They had a dinner for Matt that night, only slightly more coordinated than the one they’d had for Keith’s going away. Altean entertaining was an involved event, usually orchestrated by someone who’d trained for years in decorum and interstellar diplomacy, not by two members of royalty who simply didn’t have the time. But Matt didn’t seem to mind, chatting gaily with his sister and her boyfriend. He took to the food goo faster than Allura would’ve expected, having experienced firsthand the other paladins’ hesitance. He’d even asked her how it was made, sending the other humans into a shocked silence.

“Did I…touch on something I shouldn’t have?”

“No, not at all,” Shiro said, laughing. “None of us ever thought to ask.”

“I’m pretty ashamed of myself, lets be real,” Hunk said, and took notes on his tablet when Allura and Coran explained as best they could.

“I think there’s a section on it in the library, with the cookbooks,” Coran said, and Pidge nodded.

“I’ll go in there with you later—I know where it is.”

“No funny business in the library, now!” Coran said, and Pidge rolled her eyes, but he persisted. “Or anywhere else! This ship has security logs, you know. Logs that _I_ review.”

He turned to Matt when Pidge flushed, and gestured at him with his spoon. “That means you, too, Holt 1.”

“Holt 1?”

“It’s a height thing,” Hunk said, as he patted Pidge’s arm, unperturbed. Matt grinned.

“I’ll keep the sex to private places, then.”

“Thanks, Matt,” Coran said, settling back into his seat. Allura noticed Shiro staring at Matt, looking the way he always did before he laid down the law.

“Before you start having sex, come see me first.”

“Oh? Reconsidering my offer?” Matt said, his grin unchanging. Pidge sighed and slid down into her seat, hands over her beet-red face. Shiro, too, sighed.

“No, I’m not. But I want to talk to you first. Our team operates on cohesion and emotional stability, and I want to make sure—”

“Shiro, it’d be easier if we just did it this way—raise your hand if you _are_ interested in having sex with me. Even a little.”

Allura took a deep breath as Shiro frowned. This handsome stranger was speaking a language she understood. Finally, a human who seemed to get it. He raised his eyebrows, looking between her and Lance, and though she felt there was a lesson she should have learned, she couldn’t seem to think beyond seeing that grin between her legs. She turned to Lance, whose cheeks had colored a little.

One glance to Shiro, who knew what she was about, who she trusted to warn her should she need it. But he simply shrugged, defeated. She reached under the table to squeeze his hand. He squeezed back.

She met Lance’s eyes and winked, raising just her free hand from the table.

And so, realization dawning, did he.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Shiro sighed.

 

ALL CATS 1: END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, All Cats 1 comes to a close. I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it—it was a great palate cleanser and fun break from my usual writing, and it refreshed me in ways that were really, really necessary. For that, and for all you readers, I am very grateful.
> 
> I mentioned before, but I'll be taking June to edit All Cats 1.5, and will be posting that weekly in July (with the exception of possibly the first week, as I'll be traveling for work). Please subscribe to my user profile so you don't miss a chapter! I have not yet written All Cats 2, but I've definitely got plans for it. These poor paladins have no clue what's in store for them... ;)
> 
> Again, thank you so much for reading, commenting, and giving kudos - it's all meant a lot!


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